Diary of Our Everyday Madness
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: John Bates- a single, eligible WWII veteran- returns to his adopted home of Guernsey and begins a relationship with Anna Smith, the local divorcee with a child, and it throws the whole community into a tizzy.
1. Home Again, Home Again

He disembarked the ferry and took a deep breath. Managing the dock, he shifted around the others trying to reach their family members and smiled so broadly it split his face when he caught sight of the tiny old woman waiting at the back of the crowd. Her eyes finally fell on him and she threw her arms wide so he could catch her in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.

"Johnny!"

"Mum!" When he finally let her down their hands stayed connected, as if afraid the other might vanish should they let go. "How are you?"

"Well as can be expected."

"I was so worried for you."

"I'm made of stronger stuff than they are." She tapped the side of her nose, "You know us Bateses, built to last. It's the Irish in the blood."

"Scottish too no doubt."

"No doubt. If anyone knows about survival under years of tyranny it's the Scots." She went for his bag but he stopped her. "You won't let your dear old mother spoil her son when he's come home the conquering hero from war?"

"Not when it's nothing but dirty laundry and a few souvenirs." John smiled, slinging the strap over his shoulder. "I'm sure you've got other ways to spoil me so I won't be disappointed."

"You're not wrong there." She slipped her thin arm through his, "It feels good to have you home. Better even that it is to speak English and have everything in English again."

John turned his head to view the street about them before addressing his mother, "Was it that bad?"

"Not as bad as some had it but I wouldn't do it over again in a hurry if that's what you mean."

"Then you're adjusting well?"

She shrugged, "The time change's a bit rough but we'll overcome. It's what we do."

"Keep calm and carry on?"

"Exactly."

He paused, "I heard you almost starved here."

"We found our way through it." She took a deep breath, "Thank God for the Red Cross and the angels who work in its ranks, that's all I've got to say and they'll be getting a pretty penny from me every year until I die, you mark my words."

"Mum-"

"We're alive and that's all that matters." She nudged him, "And what about you? What as it like for you?"

"Not sure how much I can actually tell you." John bit at his lip, grinning when his mother swiped at his head. "What I can say is that I served in what they're calling the 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare'."

"Shortsheeting beds and tripping up your enemy at the ankles?"

"Something like that." John lowered his voice, "We were Churchill's Special Operations Executive."

"They had you everywhere. Your letters, from the parts I could read through the black they laced over them, smelled like every country in Europe and some in Asia."

"How would you know what a country smells like? You've only ever been between Belfast, London, and Saint. Anne's."

"I buy books for my shop from all over the world, as you well know, and I know the smell of the paper." She winked at him, "You'll get to know it too."

"Then you'll give me the shop?"

"Give you?" She scoffed, "I'd sooner cut off my right arm then simply had over my shop to anyone. You'll apprentice, like I did, and learn how to manage the place."

"I already know how to manage it."

"Times have changed Johnny and we're not going to miss out on them." She tugged him down a street, "Now, you mentioned a friend in your division. Some Flying Officer Lee or whatever."

"Christopher?"

"That's the one." She shuddered, "From his picture I wanted nothing more than to sit that man at my table and stuff him until his form filled out. He was so gaunt if he stood sideways he'd vanish right before a stiff wind blew him away."

"He was more durable than you make him sound." John laughed, "We served in the Long-Range Desert Patrol before we got recruited and he saved my life at least three times."

"Then the moment you can get him here do it. I'm stuffing that boy to bursting for saving my son."

"I'll write him." John took a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment. "I've missed this smell."

"I didn't think you were here long enough to appreciate it."

"I appreciate more than you think." John hugged his mother close, "I worried about you."

"And I prayed for you." She narrowed her eyes at him, "I hope you're about to tell me, John Bates, that you kept up with your prayers."

"God and I've got an understanding."

"John-"

"It is what it is." John held up his hands, "I think I'm still working on finding my feet about finding Him and that's all I can do."

"You'll leave your poor old mother to weep at the gates of Saint Peter for you because you won't let yourself get in?"

"I'd do no such thing." John smirked, "I'd climb the gate."

"John Bates!"

They laughed a moment, falling back in step as they walked up the street. "I heard about all the conscientious objectors here."

"I hope you didn't think I'd be one of them."

"The men I served with didn't exactly have nice things to say about the Irish." John winced, "Convinced they left us hanging out to dry."

"Then they can go hang themselves because they fell into the same trap everyone else did in this war." She pulled her shawl closer around her, "Just like the last war."

"What'd you mean?"

"They assume that because you might identify with a certain group you are that group." She stopped, holding a finger up to him, "Being Irish by blood doesn't mean I didn't support the fight against the Nazis and all they stood for. But people like groups in war. It helps them feel vindicated about not having emotions for the individuals. Helps them kill a faceless enemy instead of a person."

"Mum," John looked at the ground before meeting her eyes, "I killed the enemy."

"Everyone's got to serve their country Johnny." She took his arm again, "I wish the time for recriminations were over and we could go back to trying to love our neighbors."

"Guess you wouldn't have been a conscientious objector."

"I haven't conscientiously objected anything since the Great War." She sighed, "You can't object anything when you're seen everyone you know die."

"I heard about those who died here. They said ten total."

"Three of them were those Jewish girls." His mother sniffed, "They sent them to a death camp and there's been no word. We're all sure they died there."

"I heard the Americans took pictures of what they saw there." John snorted, "They're convinced that people would say it never happened but how could anyone forget that kind of thing?"

"They forgot what we lost the last time we all decided to lob our men and bombs at one another." Mrs. Bates drew a key from her pocket and stopped in front of a bookshop. "But that's why they burned books. To make people forget."

"I guess you had something to say about that."

"I had quite a few things to say about that." She pushed the door open, "But now you'll have to say things about it."

John flipped the sign on the door and then paused when he heard a noise from above him. He pointed upward and his mother laughed, taking her place behind the desk. "Those are our tenants."

"Tenants?" John worked around a precariously stacked pile of books, resting his bag on a chair. "When did you take tenants?"

"There was only me John." She shrugged, "I like having the company and she helps me run the shop."

"She?"

"Anna," Mrs. Bates gave an exasperated sigh, "Honestly did you read none of my letters."

"I read them." John insisted, "But I don't remember you mentioning taking tenants or someone to help with the shop. What do you need me for if you've already got someone?"

"She's only here a few hours a day." Mrs. Bates arranged a few books, "She's a children's book artist so she spends most of her time doing that but she needed few extra marks and I offered her the position part time."

"Marks?"

Mrs. Bates stopped herself, "I guess they'll be getting those out of circulation now."

"They'd need to." John turned at the sound of a pair of feet thumping down the steps. He jumped when a small girl whipped past him and into his mother's arms. She giggled as Mrs. Bates scooped her up, peppering her with kisses, and then rested the blonde headed nymph on her hip.

"John, meet Katie-Anne."

"Hello." John offered his hand but the girl just grinned and buried her head in Mrs. Bates's neck. "Shy then?"

"I think it's your uniform." John turned and locked his jaw to stop it dropping at the sight of the woman standing there. "She's not much for the military."

"I should hope not." John shuffled to the side, "I'm hoping we've got no more use for it myself."

"It did it's job or else we wouldn't be free now." The woman offered John her hand, "I'm Anna Smith, the tenant upstairs."

"John Bates…" John snuck a look at his mother, "Apprentice shop owner, apparently."

"She's very efficient that way." Anna took her hand back, "I do hope we weren't disturbing you in any way."

"No," John waved a hand. "It's nothing. I'm just not used to noises that mean life is going on like normal."

"I imagine that'd be hard."

"I can manage."

"Of course you can." Anna held her arms out and Mrs. Bates handed Katie-Anne back. "Ms. Catherine Anne this is our new friend Mr. Bates and I hope you'll be as polite to him as you are to Mrs. Bates here."

The little girl nodded, her hair mere wisps on the slight breeze. "Yes Mummy."

"Good." Anna turned back to the stairs, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Bates and it's wonderful to have you back. Mrs. Bates talks of nothing else but you."

John coughed, "I'm sure I'm not that interesting."

"It was interesting enough for me." Anna nodded at him, "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon." John watched her go up the stairs and only moved when his mother swatted his arm with a pamphlet. "Ow."

"It's not polite to stare, Johnny."

"I wasn't staring."

"Um hm." She turned back to the front desk, "I'm sure you weren't."

"I wasn't."

"Lying's a sin John."

"Then it's a good thing God and I are working things out." John grabbed his bag, "He won't mind."

"John!"


	2. Three Bags Full

John signed for the crate and loaded it on the back of the truck. He pushed it over the bed and then climbed after it, adjusting it to fit snuggly with the other there, and then went to climb back out. He stopped a moment, his leg twinging and sending him leaning against the side. His hand clutched at the metal and he grimaced until the spasm faded to a steady thump in his muscles.

Shaking it off, John climbed from the back and drew the tarp over the contents as the first drops of rain splattered on his head. He turned to the cab and noticed Anna hurrying up the road with a bag in her arms. She paused a moment under the eave of a shop before risking the rain again.

John opened the door to the passenger side and called out to her. "Ms. Smith?"

She frowned, turning toward him, and then nodded. He pointed toward the cab and she shook her head. John worked toward her, the rain falling harder as they both sought another cover. "I'd not want to leave you out to get soaked."

"I'm sure you're ever the gentleman, Mr. Bates, but I couldn't put you out of your way."

"It's on my way." John pointed to the truck, "And I'd like the company."

"But I'm not on my way back to your mother's shop."

"Neither am I." He grinned, "Please, my mother'd know if I didn't and then there'd be Hell to pay."

"Honestly I think I'd rather face Hell than your mother angry." Anna lifted her head to eye the sky before giving him a nod. "Alright, let's go."

They dashed across the road and John hurried into the cab first, sliding to the driver's side as Anna pulled in after him, yanking the door closed. "That wasn't so bad."

"As long as these are safe." Anna opened the bag and pulled out a folio. "I'd be gutted if I needed to redo them."

"What are they, if I may ask?" John turned the key and steered the truck onto the road, trundling away from the docks and toward the town.

"Illustrations." Anna held one up and John whistled.

"That's not an illustration. That's pure art." John turned the truck down a road and wove into the rolling hills. "Did you draw that?"

"I did." Anna tucked the drawing away. "I'm an illustrator."

"Truly?"

"I call myself that anyway." Anna slipped the folio back into the bag and folded it over. "I'm taking them to the author to compare them against the prose being submitted."

"Who's the author?"

"Edith Crawley."

"Crawley?" John frowned, "That name sounds familiar."

"She's the daughter of Robert Crawley. He's the closest thing to royalty we've got on the island. He's Bailiff and the lord of some thing or other but I never remember where it is."

"Did he serve in the war?"

"He was injured quite early on. So badly they had to send him back here." Anna frowned, "Do you know him?"

"I think I was there when he was injured." John shook his head, "Or else it was another Crawley who fought."

"His daughter, Mary, lost her husband when they shot him down over Germany." Anna bit her lip, "He was in the RAF and died during an escape attempt from one of the camps there."

"I'm so sorry."

"War makes widows and mourners of us all." Anna sat back in the seat, "Where are you driving anyway?"

"Downton Place." John pointed up the road, "Unless I've muddled my directions."

"You really were going in the same direction as me."

"I have somethings they ordered from my mother to deliver since her normal delivery boy finally returned to France to find his family."

"I'll miss Michel." Anna shook her head, "Katie-Anne was infatuated with him. Told me time and again that all she wanted to do was marry him when she grew up."

"Does she know that he'd age too?"

"I don't think children realize other people get old."

"Good for them. I look in the mirror and every time I do I just feel old."

"You don't look old."

"I'll take that compliment." John risked a smile at her, "But I'm sure you've got better things to talk about than buttering me up."

"It's difficult to speak to you Mr. Bates."

"And why is that Ms. Smith?"

She shrugged, "Because your mother only ever talked about you and it's the point where I almost feel I know you."

"I hope there's something to know."

"There's quite a bit to know about you Mr. Bates." Anna maneuvered in her seat to turn toward him, "You're kind and generous and you apparently got into a fight in Ireland over a girl once."

"You'd have to be more specific about that one. I fought a lot of boys over a great many girls."

"I do hope you're not trying to impress me with that."

"I wouldn't dare." John put a hand to his chest, "I'm only stating the facts. I was impetuous and attractive. I tended to make difficulties for quite a few of the local boys when I kissed the girls they walked out with."

"You tried to steal girls?"

"More that they wanted me." John chuckled, "If only it were that easy when we got older. The moment my voice cracked and suddenly I was standing as tall as a house it was more intimidating for a girl to sneak a kiss."

"Is that when the bookish poet emerged?" John shot her a look as Anna's face broadened into a smile. "Your mother read me some of the poetry you'd write her and it was all very beautiful."

"I'm starting to feel a distinct disadvantage in this conversation Ms. Smith."

"Don't, I started with an advantage." Anna took a deep breath, "The truth is that your mother told me about you to stop me making a serious mistake."

"What kind of mistake?"

"The kind that is usually very permanent." Anna sobered, "There's a cliff, overlooking a rather rocky bay, and I stood on the edge more than a few times contemplating how to jump to the bottom."

John stayed silent a moment, tightening his grip on the wheel in his hands. "Was it because of something that happened while you were under occupation?"

"That's the simplest version."

"I'd be curious about the more difficult version… if you'd be willing to share it." John waited, turning to her as he brought the truck to a halt at a road crossing. "But if not, then your secrets are your own."

"It's not that." Anna shook her head, "It's more… surprising that you don't know since everyone in town knows. It almost feels odd to meet someone who doesn't mutter 'jerry-bag' at me under their breath."

"I don't understand what that means."

"It's not a nice way to refer to someone who fraternized with the Germans while they occupied us."

"My mother sold them books and no one refers to her that way."

"It's not so much about those forced to do business with them as those who…"

John's mouth opened and his eyes widened, "Oh."

"The thing most people forget is the lack of consent on my part in all of it." Anna stared out the windshield, her eyes taking in nothing. "There was nothing I could do about it."

"Then Katie-Anne…"

"She's half-German, Mr. Bates." Anna tried to smile at him but the smile fell, "There was a German officer, Oberleutnant Grün, who took over the house where I worked as a maid."

"What happened to the owners?"

"They evacuated before the Germans arrived and left me in charge of the house until they returned." Anna snorted, "They're not returning though. I got news through the Guernsey Society that they're staying in England and selling the house."

"Then you'll be out of a job?"

"I already was. When Oberleutnant Grün was transferred to take over a command in France his replacement didn't take to me the same way." Anna bit at the bitterness in her words, "It didn't help I was already three months gone with Katie-Anne by then and everyone could tell."

"But you having his child…"

"By law it's his and by the Church it is too." Anna shook her head, "It's since been annulled but everyone saw me as his wife still and no one would serve me or even talk to me."

"They didn't realize it was against your will?"

"They didn't want to." Anna closed her eyes, "Everyone thought I wanted to marry him because I couldn't tell them what he did to me."

"Did he-"

Anna nodded, "I was working there late since he had a meeting in one of the rooms and I could not get in there earlier. He was drunk, angry about something involving a promotion he lost to someone else, and caught sight of me. I tried to fight him off but…"

John pulled the truck to the side of the road and risked a hand over hers. "It's not your fault Ms. Smith."

"Then why do I always feel so ashamed?" Anna faced him, "Ashamed that I didn't tell anyone? Ashamed that when he forced me before the minister the next day and held a gun to the man's head to marry us so I didn't say no? Ashamed that I let him touch me in the first place? Ashamed that I bore his child only for her to bear the same scorn as me?"

He had no answer for her, only pulling closer to offer his shoulder for the tears that now coursed over her cheeks. His other hand smoothed over her back, trying to calm her as the sobs choked in her throat. "I don't know, Ms. Smith. I've no answers for it."

She pulled back, "Your mother found me, when I was five months gone and starving, on that cliff. She took me in and gave me a job when no one would even look at me. She was the only one who saw past what happened."

"I think more people allowed their grief to destroy them and their fear to rule over them than should've." John wiped the tears from her face before offering her a handkerchief as the rain pounded against the roof of the cab. "And I think they wanted somewhere to place their anger."

"On me?"

"I didn't say they put it in the right place." John held her hand. "But it's easier to hate than to forgive and love."

"Your mother never hated me."

"My mother's Irish. She hates the same things now that she did when I was young." John held up his fingers, "Bad beer, people who steal her seat in church, and muddy footprints over her just-washed floor."

Anna laughed, using his handkerchief to dab at the rest of her tears. "She is a remarkable woman."

"That she is." John gazed at Anna, "And so are you, Ms. Smith."

"I doubt that very much." She returned his handkerchief.

"I don't know anyone who would've stayed here after what happened. Or who would've endured what you did and become the person you are."

"I had nowhere else to go and since Katie-Anne's half German they wouldn't let her into England anyway."

"But you still stayed strong for her." John turned back to the road, turning the ignition over to guide the truck toward their destination. "And that says more about you than whatever horrible gossip the people in town might have to whisper behind their hands."

"Have you heard anything?"

"No." John snorted, "Just received a few female callers begging for a turn around the square or offering me dinner."

"You're an eligible veteran returned home, Mr. Bates. You mean something to them."

"I'm meat to them, Ms. Smith." John shook his head, "I'm not interested in war widows or single women hoping my prowess in battle is prowess elsewhere."

"I'm not interested in that either." Anna smiled at him, "My interest is in your similarities with your mother."

"Which ones are those?"

"You're compassionate and caring."

"She taught me well." John imitated his mother's voice. "She always said, 'if you see someone in need then you never turn them away'."

"The good Samaritan then."

"It's one of her favorite stories." John stopped before a large gate, "I think I found the house of the island royalty."

"They're kinder people than that."

"Have they been kind to you?"

"Very." Anna held the folio closer to her, "This family's been some of my only ever friends in the whole world."

"Well then," John tapped the horn to open the gate, "I guess I'll have the pleasure of meeting your friends."


	3. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

John pulled the truck around to the front of the building and squinted up at the sky, "I guess the rain's clearing up a bit."

"I guess it is." Anna wiped at her eyes with her fingers and blinked at him. "Is it obvious that I've been crying? I don't want anyone to make a fuss."

"Would I be allowed to make a fuss?" John checked the brakes and put his hand on the door. "If I wanted to make a fuss, that is, would that be allowed?"

"I think you're making a fuss is rather fine." Anna put her hand on her door as well. "But perhaps not while there are those around who might make a fuss I don't want."

"That's fine." John cleared his throat, "Might I ask another question that's perhaps a bit impertinent?"

"I'm intrigued and a little worried by that but I'll take the chance."

"Why did your Oberleutnant Grün marry you?" John shook his head, "Sorry, he wasn't yours… I don't know why I said that."

"A degree of reference I think." Anna swallowed, "And it was so I could be at his mercy."

"At his mercy?"

"As his wife I was his, Mr. Bates." Anna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "My marriage to him was more of a claim on property instead of evidence of any actual affection or care. The way someone buys a cow or a farm. Ownership in its complete form."

"He married you to own you?"

"He did." Anna shrugged, "Once he was transferred and the priest pled my case to the Bailiff, the marriage was annulled."

"But everyone still thinks you're a…" John frowned, "Jerry-bag?"

"Most of them do. They think I annulled the marriage to appear less friendly and it didn't help that Grün's replacement spread the rumor."

"Did he not like you?"

"He didn't like Grün and he wanted everyone to know it by using me as a point of solidarity." Anna checked through her folio again, "I think we'd better get on or they'll think we're only here to chat with one another."

"Indeed." John went for his door but stopped again, "My mother said you illustrate children's books. Is this the first one you've done? Can I ask that?"

"I did say I was an illustrator."

"Is this the first?"

"Of many I hope." Anna shrugged, "But I'm just an illustrator."

"But there are many ways one can be an illustrator." John opened his door and hurried to her side before she could open the door herself. "I guess you're a woman of many talents."

"I'm trying to be." Anna took his offered hand and disembarked.

She went to say something else but the door opened and the drawl of someone made to wait longer than they are accustomed to spoke. "I guess you found a way to brave the rain and get yourself here."

"Yes, Mary, I did." Anna held up the folio, climbing the stairs to where Mary stood. "Mr. Bates was kind enough to drive me through the rain."

" _Mister_ Bates?" Mary looked over Anna's shoulder and John waved.

"Just here to deliver some books and other articles."

"I didn't know there was a Mr. Bates." Mary descended the stairs and extended a hand to John. "Mary Crawley, at your service."

"John Bates at yours." He took her hand. "I'm Mrs. Bates's son."

"Oh yes," Mary smiled, folding her arms over her chest. "I've heard about you. I just didn't put it together in that way."

John squirmed, "I truly hope you haven't heard too much about me from my mother."

"I've heard enough but it wasn't from your mother." Mary nodded her head, "It's from my father."

"Your father?"

"Me," John turned up the stairs to see a gray-haired man, leaning on a cane, coming down toward him. "I told my family all about the man who saved my life."

"I wouldn't say I did that sir." John turned to Anna for help but she could only shrug. "I just-"

"Pushed me out of the way or a grenade." The man stuck out his hand, "We didn't officially meet, Captain Bates, but I'm Robert Crawley."

John hurried to take his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir."

"The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine." Robert took back his hand. "I know your mother for the books she so kindly orders for me and sends here but I didn't realize you were her son or that her son saved my life."

"I'm sure you won't be wounded, then, if I admit that I was not aware you were her Bailiff."

Robert waved a hand, "I'm head of the island council but we all know it's more to do with my name than my skills."

"Of which you've many." Mary put a hand to her father's shoulder, "Now you know if you stay out here too long Mama will be on me about letting you strain yourself."

"I'm not going to overwork myself coming down the steps." Robert half turned to gesture to them. "They're just stairs."

"And you just had a bleed yesterday when your shrapnel moved now back inside." Mary turned to a man at the door, "Carson, could you help him back to the library?"

"Not the library, Carson." Robert used the hand not on his cane to hold Carson's hand and ascend the stairs. "It still smells like those horrible cigars they all smoked and I've yet to get the smell out."

"His injury still causes him pain?" John focused on Mary and she shrugged.

"Risks of war I think. My father lost the full use of his right leg and sometimes suffers bleeds when the shrapnel still in his leg moves. Gives him stabbing pains on occasion when the wrong nerves get rubbed but that's more the doctor's business than mine."

John teethed his lip, "I heard about your husband, Mrs. Crawley."

"Bravery at its finest, as the British government said." Mary tried to brush it off but John saw the glint of tears in her eyes. "It's what his son'll know when he can understand it. If that's a possibility."

"We all understand in our own way."

Mary studied him, "I imagine you lost quite a few of your fellows in your service, did you not Mr. Bates?"

"More than a few." John affirmed and then motioned toward the back of the truck. "I'd best get those books your father ordered or else my mother will think I'm slacking at my work."

"And I should get Anna inside because Edith thinks I'm trying to sabotage her work." Mary bit the inside of her cheek, eyes narrowed as if she wanted to consider John more closely. "I'm glad we've met, Mr. Bates. I've a good feeling about you."

"Thank you."

John pulled the tarp back from the bed of the truck and lowered the hatch to climb into the back. Someone banged their hand on the side of the truck and he noticed a man with auburn hair pointing toward the interior. "Need a hand with those?"

"Wouldn't mind it since I've only got the two arms." John went to jump into the bed but the other man beat him to it, landing solidly and pushing one of the crates toward John. "You've got a build on you."

"I should hope so. I was a bare-knuckles-brawler back in Dublin."

"My mother's from Belfast."

"We've met." The man took his crate. "I've done some of her fetch and carry when she wanted to talk about the Emerald Isle."

"I thought she had a Frenchman for that."

"And the Frenchman had a girlfriend." The man jumped from the back and matched pace with John as they carried the books into the house. "I was on standby."

"Like now?"

"Not quite. I'm the mechanic and driver here. I only carry when it's people I like." He used his head to direct John, "Library's this way."

"Big reader then?"

"Mr. Crawley allows us to borrow his books if we sign them out properly and I've gone through most of what he's got by way of history books. A few things on socialism but he's a monarchist." The man used his shoulder to open the door and showed John were to set the crate before extending a hand. "Tom Branson."

"John Bates."

"Your mother talks about you."

John scowled, "It seems that was all she did while I was at war."

"At least you were at war. You wouldn't believe the dirty looks I got from being here while everyone else was fighting. You'd think I went out and personally killed everyone's favorite pet right in front of them."

"Were you-"

"Conscientious objector." He shrugged and guided John through the house to the kitchen. He pulled two bottles from the fridge and offered one to John but John shook his head. "Not into the local brew?"

"I'm not a drinker anymore."

"Bad run at the tap?"

"More like a soured marriage."

"Ah," Branson tucked the other bottle away and then used the edge of the counter to pop the lid off of his. "To each their own I think."

"I'd drink to that."

"If you drank."

"If I drank." John smiled before crossing his arms, scooting closer to Branson. "I wonder if you could answer some questions for me."

"I could try." Branson lowered the bottle, "What kind of questions?"

"The kind others won't answer because they're trying to forget the war. Trying to pretend it never happened and they weren't occupied."

"You're going to have a rough go of it there mate." Branson swigged, "It was a blow to national pride and that's saying something."

"So what… happened?" John shuffled, "My mother won't say and no one really talks about it except with these sideways comments."

"They confiscated everything first. Radios, weapons, motors, cameras, fuel, furniture, and even houses." Branson pulled his arm in an arc. "This whole place was crawling with Jerries and instead of driving crippled Mr. Crawley about I was ferrying Jerries."

"Forced quartering?"

Branson nodded. "To their credit they started with homes that were empty but then it was any empty rooms in occupied houses and then any houses they wanted. It got a little difficult there when people wanted to keep their sovereignty of at least their homes. Bit of a shock for them when they realized the Jerries didn't care."

"War can be that kind of shock."

"That was what they felt with all the restrictions." Branson ticked them off on his fingers, "Fishing, drinking, exporting, price changing, patriotic songs or signs, no more than three people could meet at a time, access to the beach, whatever fuel we were allowed, medicines, rights for speech, and associations with clubs or groups."

"Sounds like a right hellhole."

"I think they wanted us cowed under rules and then beat people down after that." Branson shrugged. "People got used to the time change, driving on the other side of the road, and even rationing but having to accept Reichmarks, the curfew, censoring, the census they did, the increase to income tax, issued ID cards, cycling in single file… or those who could actually cycle, the billeting I mentioned, and allowing Germans to work…"

Branson leaned back against the wall, "It was a right nightmare. There was almost a riot in the school when they had to teach German there."

"But the Guerns survived?"

"Like they do." Branson finished his bottle. "I can't tell you how happy everyone was when the _HMS Bulldog_ pulled into port and the Germans surrendered. They've even planned a big party for next year to celebrate. They're calling it 'Liberation Day'."

"And you'll be here to celebrate it?"

"You never know where you'll be in a year." Branson dropped his bottle in a bucket. "I've been writing to my cousin in Dublin and he wants to open a garage there. I might go back there to do that."

"You want to open a garage?"

"We've all got dreams, Mr. Bates."

"I've nothing against it," John held up his hands. "I'm living my dream."

"Owning a bookshop?"

"Owning my mother's bookshop." John checked his watch. "I'd best be off. There's more to do."

"Sorry for holding you up." Branson led him back to the truck. "And please tell Mrs. Bates that I've still available if she still needs a fetch and carry."

"I'll let her know." John paused in the doorway, "I drove Ms. Smith here and I wouldn't-"

"I'll drive her back to town. Don't worry about her." Branson bit at his teeth, "You do know what happened to her, yes?"

"She told me."

"Good." Branson shook his head, "People in this town treat her and that poor little girl abysmally. Sweet as an angel and treated like a demon."

"By whom?"

"It's easier to compile a list of those who don't torment them." Branson lowered his voice, "I'd be a bit easier if I knew you were on her side."

"I am. She's still my mother's tenant and I've had nothing but pleasant interactions with them."

"Good." Branson sighed. "I've thrown a few punches on her behalf but I'm hated about as much as she is."

"Because of your objection?" Branson nodded and John ground at his teeth. "Then don't worry Mr. Branson. I'll look out for both of them."

"It's not because I don't believe in Ms. Smith's ability to protect herself."

"I know why, Mr. Branson." John got into his truck, "It's because you're a decent bloke and you want others to be as decent."

"Glad we understand one another."

"We're Irish, Mr. Branson. If we can't understand one another than who do we understand?"

John drove back to town and parked the truck behind his mother's shop. As he removed the key and went to the back to fold up the tarp he heard a giggle. Turning he noticed Katie-Anne, hiding in the crack of the door, staring at him.

"And what's got you laughing?" John crouched on his toes to be at her level. "Is there something funny about me?"

The girl nodded her head and John made a show of inspecting himself. "I guess I'm a bit funny but not so much you should be laughing."

She giggled again and then her face fell. John frowned, following the direction of her wide eyes, and noticed a trio of men in the alley. He stood, instinctively blocking the door.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"Is that the Jerry-Bag's brat?"

"This is Katie-Anne." John did not move from his position. "If you've got some reason to be here then please, go about your business. If you don't then please leave. I've got work to do and you're in the way."

"I'm sure we are." The foremost man, with a crinkle to his eyes like he spent too much time sneering at others, stood before John. "I heard stories about you."

"Did you now?"

"Your mother used to tell them to scare people away from her shop."

"People like you?"

"Anyone who scared her." The man spit at John's feet. "If she'd had more sense she wouldn't be allowing that filthy slut to lodge here."

"I'll remind you, sir, that there's a child present and I'd rather preserve her innocence."

"That's a Jerry's kid. What do I care what the bas-"

John put one hand over the man's mouth and the other around his neck, fingernails digging slightly at the man's trachea. "I served the Prime Minister himself, in his Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare and if you don't know what that means I'll tell you that I was trained in the art of tearing out a man's trachea with my fingers. That's why they're positioned where they are right now." He indented and the man squealed against the hand over his mouth. "If you speak about my mother's lodger or her daughter with that kind of foul and disgusting language again, I'll make sure you can't speak or breathe again."

Releasing the man, John stepped back. "Do we understand one another?" The man could only nod, rubbing at his neck. "Good."

The trio quickly disappeared down the other end of the alley and John finished folding the tarp, tucking it under the lip of the bed, and went into the bookshop's back room.

His mother sat at the desk, tallying accounts, and looked up as he entered. "You took your time. Did you get lost?"

"In thought and then in conversation."

"Sassy." Her lips turned up in a smirk, "Katie-Anne was just in here telling me she was protected from three wolves by a bear."

"What an imagination."

"What a risk." His mother set down her pencil and removed her glasses. "I don't want you starting fights with the locals."

"I was defending someone's honor."

"I don't want you starting any duels either."

"Who said anything about a duel?"

Mrs. Bates sighed, "John, I've known you for a long time. A very long time if I may say and if there's one thing I know about you it's that you're always willing to defend someone's honor. You'd nobly fall on your sword for anyone, even if the smarter course of action could prevent it."

"So I shouldn't have stopped those men saying those things?"

"People can say what they like. They say it to get a reaction because they're cowards and they're frightened. I won't have you rising to their goading. Taunts are for the schoolyard, not for adults."

John took a seat beside the desk, his hand covering his mother's so she could not reach for her pencil. "What they say about her is wrong."

"A great many things are wrong, John. What they say about Anna Smith and her daughter is none of our business."

"I don't understand," John frowned. "I thought you defended her."

"I do. But I don't need the world to know what I do. I don't care what the world thinks and they can say what they like. I'll continue doing what I'm doing and ignore the rest."

"You can't always ignore it."

"Watch me." She put her glasses back on, taking up her pencil. "Now, there's another load to deliver by the end of the day and then we've got sorting to do if you're up for it."

"Not sure I'm in a position to say 'no'." John pushed himself to stand and then glimpsed Katie-Anne standing at the door, still watching him. "Do you want to come with me?"

His mother looked up and saw Katie-Anne there. "I'm not sure she's allowed."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Bates put down her pencil. "It's nothing I've never asked about before since I never did the deliveries. But she never went with Michel and Branson couldn't take her."

"Then what is it you do all day?" John crouched in front of the little girl. "Just run wild here?"

She nodded, grinning at him before running away with her curls bouncing on her head. John laughed, standing to face his mother again. "I think she'd enjoy it."

"Wait until-" The front bell on the shop dinged and Mrs. Bates removed her glasses, pushing back from the desk. "I guess we've got patrons."

As John and Mrs. Bates entered the shop they saw two men looking over the books. John noted Katie-Anne in the corner, keeping herself hidden, and then he recognized them as the men from the alley. Leaving his mother a moment, John walked to where Katie-Anne hid herself and bent down as if to retrieve a book.

"Do you recognize them?" She nodded. "How?"

"They yell names at Mummy and me in the street."

"Oh," John opened his arms to the girl, "Why don't you come here? You'll be safe with me."

She stepped tentatively into his grip and John lifted her from the floor, keeping his body between her and the two men. Then he heard a jeering noise and craned his neck to see Branson escorting Anna into the shop. The men in the shop turned as well, calling out their own insults as Branson and Anna entered the shop.

"Why don't you all bugger off?" Branson hissed at them. "Leave those actually making a living alone."

The men stepped forward, as if they would do something, but John growled in their direction and they slunk back. Moments later they left the shop and Branson turned to Mrs. Bates. "Just delivering your tenant back to you."

"Thank you, Mr. Branson." Mrs. Bates sucked the inside of her cheek at Anna's expression and then spoke to her, "Anna, do you think you'd mind if Katie-Anne went with John on some rounds? Get her out of the shop for a bit?"

Anna blinked and faced John. "If you don't mind."

"I don't."

"And you?" Anna eyed her daughter, "Do you want to go help Mr. Bates deliver some books?"

She nodded vigorously, almost blinding herself with the force of her hair bouncing in her eyes, and Anna laughed. Her fine fingers brushed it back and slipped over John's arm on the way down. He shivered but Anna took no notice.

"Alright then. You're to help Mr. Bates and not hinder him. Understand?"

"She'll be a right angel I'm sure." John met Branson's eyes and the other man winked at him. "Come on then. Before we've wasted too much of the day and Mrs. Bates docks my pay."

"Don't think I won't." She called after them as John set Katie-Anne on the ground and showed her what they needed to carry out.

"Ready?" Katie-Anne nodded and grabbed a small stack she could manage form one of the crates. John laughed, picking it up. "Alright then, little helper, let's get started."


	4. Fleece as White as Snow

John worked through the books, sorting their titles and occasionally passing one over to Katie-Anne. "For one of your piles. What does it say?" She struggled through the title word-by-word and John nodded at her, smile spreading over his face. "And where would it go?"

"History?"

"You're guessing." He pressed on her nose and she giggled, burying her face behind the cover of the book. "Try again, you've only got four piles."

"It's got a picture on the front."

"It's not a picture book though." John leaned over his towering stacks. "Which one is it?"

"It's… historical fiction."

"Yes it is." John pointed to the right pile. "How about we put all those ones away now?"

"Yes." She tried to managed the stack on her own but it toppled toward the ground. John ducked forward to save it and took the stack in one hand and Katie-Anne in the other. She squealed as John lifted her to sit on his shoulders and grasped an ankle to keep her upright while his other arm held the pile tight to his body.

Ducking under the door he noted Anna in the corner, tallying something from the register. Her eyes widened a moment but John shook his head at her and Anna settled back in her chair, flipping a page in the tiny pad she held. John weaved between the shelves and found the right section, still keeping a view to Anna, and selected one of the books to pass to Katie-Anne.

"Up on the top if you please. And read for the right author. Do you see where it says the author's name?"

"It's here." She jabbed it with her finger, dangling the book before John's eyes to show him.

"Good. Now which name do we use?"

"Last." A short pause led to a squeal. "It's just like mine."

"Maybe he's related to you." John tipped his head to look up at her. "Where on the shelf does it go then?"

Katie-Anne scrunched up her face, tracing her small finger along the books before resting on the ones she wanted. "But they all say 'Smith' here."

"Now look at their first names. Where would it go then?"

"Here." Katie-Anne pushed her hand between the books to make a space and slotted the one in her hand there. "Next one."

They worked through the piles, each one carried from the backroom to the main room of the shop. Katie-Anne darted about with vigor and energy as John acted her mule. Sometimes she clambered onto his back to reach the higher shelves and other times she wove between the piles, his legs, and the shelves carrying the books as quickly as she could to put them all away.

When they finished, the tinkling of the bell at the door signaling Mrs. Bates entrance to the shop, Katie-Anne's eyes drooped a bit. John lifted her into his arms and she cuddled against him as he greeted his mother. She clicked her teeth as Katie-Anne's droopy smile.

"I see you worked her to the bone." Mrs. Bates dug into her purse and pulled out a pound note. "One of the freshest on the island."

"That's not necessary Mrs. Bates," Anna tried to intervene, holding the small pad on top of a large sketchpad. She noted John's eyes flicking toward it and closed the cover while drawing the smaller pad out of the way. "She's just staying out of trouble and-"

"And I believe in fair wage for fair work. She helped and she'll get rewarded for her efforts. Johnny did it when he was younger and she'll do it now."

Katie-Anne's small fingers closed around the note. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Thank you for your help in keeping him out of trouble." Mrs. Bates put a hand to John's shoulder. "We'll run inventory in the morning and then you'll be off on deliveries."

"Yes ma'am." John turned to Anna, "Would you mind if I just put her up. I have a feeling she might want to go straight to bed."

"I can take her so she's not such a hassle to you Mr. Bates."

"She's no trouble at all." John shifted his hold so Katie-Anne's head rested on his shoulder and her hot breath hit his skin. "Light as a feather, honestly."

"Only if you're sure."

"It won't take me but a moment to put her down."

"Then I'll unlock the door."

Anna led the way to the rooms she rented above the shop, taking the back stairs that creaked and complained a bit with each depression of John's feet. They climbed the two flights to reach where her rooms sat above the ones John shared with his mother. Her key slid into the lock with ease and she pushed the door open to allow John inside.

As he held Katie-Anne, Anna flipped the switches for the lights in the flat and waved John to follow her down the little hallway to the room with a lovely pattern of flowers and stars over the walls. John worked himself to his knees, depositing Katie-Anne as gently as he could on her bed and trying to slip the pound note from her hand. Her tight fist gave no quarter and John laughed.

"She knows the value of her day's wage."

"Don't we all?' Anna bent over, kissing her forehead before pushing some of the curls from Katie-Anne's eyes. "She'll sleep until morning after the work she did today."

"She's an impeccable worker." John whispered, working out of the room as quietly as he could, Anna following a second later and closing the door after her. "She's brilliant as well. Her reading skills are-"

"Your mother taught her to read." Anna crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the floor. "She's been very good to us."

John frowned, "I've got a sneaking suspicion you're saying that as if you're going to tell me you regret something."

"I regret a great many things, Mr. Bates." Anna took a deep breath, "I'm trying to find a way that Katie-Anne and I can move to England."

"Do you have family there or-"

"Even if I did, my family could never take us in. Not with Katie-Anne being the daughter of a German soldier." Anna sighed, "No, I'm hoping Edith Crawley's book is enough to get me the money I need to make the move. More to the point, I hope it's enough to allow me to gain another position at a publishing house in London."

"Do you have a way to do that?"

"Ms. Crawley's got a few connections and Mary's more than willing to help me resettle." Anna pulled at her fingers, dropping her gaze. "I… I don't want to count my chickens or anything but I wouldn't want to leave your mother in a lurch should it work out."

"Is it what you want?"

"It's an opportunity and-"

"But is it what you want?"

Anna raised her head to look John in the eye. "Why?"

"It may not be my place, Ms. Smith, but I feel…" John swallowed, putting a hand through his hair to try and comfort himself. "I feel compelled to say that I want the best for you. If you think this is what's best for you and that beautiful little girl in there then please go with our blessings. But if not then…"

"Then live here for the rest of my life? Or her life?" Anna shook her head, "I know you're not blind to what we endure, Mr. Bates, and it can't be like that forever. I couldn't subject Katie-Anne to that forever."

"Then please let me help you."

"I think that's unwise, Mr. Bates." Anna shook her head. "For the moment we'll muddle through, as we do, and I'll let you know what I discover."

John opened his mouth to speak but shut it, clacking his teeth together so it rang in his ears, and nodded. "I hope it's to your happiness, Ms. Smith."

"Thank you, Mr. Bates." She walked him to the door and he paused in the corridor.

"I don't think less of you, for thinking of your daughter." John raised a hand and then dropped it. "I just wanted you to know that."

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Bates, and goodnight." She shut the door and John worked his way back down the stairs.

His mother snapped her fingers as he walked in by the door on their landing and he ducked inside. "Yes?"

"I hope you're not getting any ideas about that young woman."

"And what ideas would those be?"

She turned to him, looking over the end of her nose where her spectacles perched. "Don't pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talking about John Bates because ignorance was never your strong suit and stupidity wasn't either."

"What exactly are you worried that I'd be thinking about Ms. Smith?"

"You think you can be the hero and save her but you can't. The war's over and she's not the helpless individuals you pick up to put back on their feet."

"I never said she was."

"It's all over your face John." She removed her spectacles, sighing at him. "You fell in love with her the moment you walked through that door and you saw that little girl. You couldn't help yourself and I'm telling you that you need to forget about her and that little girl."

"Why?"

"Because, John, you're an available man who needs to think about his future."

"You think I'm not?"

"You spend all of your spare time with the half-German daughter of a legal divorcee and a social pariah." Mrs. Bates replaced her spectacles and pulled her, "You're not that much of an idiot."

"Why do I get the feeling that, for all your talk of charity, you wish she wasn't around?" John tapped the table so his mother looked at him. "Why the ulterior motive mother?"

"It's nothing to do with her, it's to do with you." She dug through the papers and handed one over. "We're riding the raggedy edge Johnny and with her here it's impacted sales. If you pursue a relationship with her it could close the business."

"Then we find a new one."

"I'll not lose my business because you couldn't see sense."

"And I won't be bullied or badgered away from someone because it's publicly or financially inconvenient for you." John shook his head, walking away from the table. "Whatever act of charity brought you to offer her a place, a job, and your heart needs to rise above whatever rests there now."

"You think I'm only thinking of my shop?" She rose to her feet, the rush of red over her cheeks forcing John to swallow. "I'm worried about that little girl growing up here where they'll spend the rest of her life calling her names. I'm worried about that poor mother who's accosted day in and day out anywhere she goes on this island. I'm worried about how that affects my business and I'm worried about how all of this affects you."

"I can take care of myself."

"What if you've no job? What if no one will hire the man who tried to pursue a woman with a child and no husband? What if you lose this business and that same child you hold so dear goes hungry. Do you stand so high on your morals then?" When John did not answer she sat back down, "Think about them instead of just what you want, Johnny. They deserve someone to do that for them."

John left the room, returning to the shop to lock it up, and flicking all the switches to leave it in darkness. As he did, he noticed a gaggle of men standing on the far side of the street. They did not move from their spot as if intent to watch the building for something. It prickled the hairs on the back of John's neck but he pushed past it and took the stairs back to his flat.

The next day, armed with a list and the crates for deliveries, John loaded the truck. As he lifted the last crate into place, covering it all with the protective tarp, he noticed Katie-Anne standing close to the door. John peeked about before offering her his hand. "Do you want to come along again?"

"Yes please."

"Then let's leave a note for our mothers so they don't think I stole you away." John scribbled off a note, leaving it near the till, and picked up Katie-Anne on his way out. "Are you ready then?"

"Ready."

They drove about with their deliveries. Katie-Anne read out the names on the packages or lifted the piles and books she could manage while John did the rest. Some of the people frowned at her but took their orders while others ignored them. A select few recognized Katie-Anne and greeted her with friendly waves and voices while others pretended she was not there and only spoke to John. But regardless of the attitudes of everyone around her, Katie-Anne remained the effervescent force at John's side and he would have it no other way.

"Another successful day for deliveries." John opened his arms and Katie-Anne jumped right to him. He caught her, shutting the door with his shoulder. "At this rate Mrs. Bates'll have to hire you or risk you going to work for another book shop."

"Never."

"Good to hear. Loyalty's a good thing." He held her with one arm, the other reaching into the back of the truck to grab the empty crates. "She'll be glad she's got a ready-made employee."

"Take care, she's still young and I don't want her thinking she's chained to me." John turned, crates in hand, to where his mother came out of the shop to dump a bin in the rubbish. "And her mother might not want her to spend the rest of her life as a keeper in a bookshop."

"There's no harm in it."

"I didn't say there was." Mrs. Bates handled the bin, "And careful with those crates. We don't know when we'll need more and no idea if they've been rationed or not."

"Crates?"

"Anything can be rationed." Mrs. Bates took the bin back inside and John widened his eyes at Katie-Anne.

"I think she's nervous you won't work for her." A sound from the other end of the alley drew his attention and he frowned, putting Katie-Anne down and handing her the empty crates. "Take this in and I'll see what's making such a terrible racket."

She held them carefully in her small arms to totter inside as John headed toward the source of the noise. The alley turned onto a backstreet and John waited, listening for a repeat of the noise. As he did, the sound happened again but this time it was muffled words in a cramped corner of another alley. Turning down it, John clenched his fists at the sight of Anna with her eyes closed as a man crowded her into the wall.

"Come on. You're a Jerry-Bag and no one else'll touch you. You let him have a taste so why not me? And don't say you didn't because that little brat of yours looks just like that Aryan you f-"

Without a thought, John charged forward and grabbed the man by the neck. He yelped when John tossed him into the other wall and then slid to the ground. John raised his fists and barked at the man on the ground.

"Get up! I don't fight men on the ground."

The man coughed and kicked at John's feet but he was ready for it. He caught the leg between his own, twisting down to catch the man's face with his fist. The crack echoed in the tight confines and he reeled back, clutching his face, while trying to use the wall to stand.

"Come on. If you think you can intimidate and torment this woman all on your own then you can fight me." John kept himself between the man and escape out the alley. More importantly, he kept himself between the man and Anna. "What've you got to say for yourself?"

"I was just telling her the truth." The man held his cheek with one hand, eyes darting around the alley and refusing the meet John's gaze.

"And what truth is that?"

"That no one else around here'll marry her or give her a good life for that little bastard of hers." The man spit, "She's a whore and no one's going to forget it."

"I'd advise you," John stepped closer to him, "To forget it. If I hear you call her, or her daughter, another name then I'll be forced to teach you some manners."

"What'll you teach me?" The man scoffed and ducked.

His fingers wrapped around a plank of wood and he brought it around in a swing. But John turned his shoulder into it, the board splintering on impact with his back, and cut across with another fist to the man's face. This one crunched the man's nose and he staggered in response. John followed it with a knee between the man's legs and an elbow between the shoulder blades when he bent double in pain.

The man hit the ground and John risked one foot back in case he charged again. He need not have worried. Moaning on the ground, the other man sniveled and bled as John crouched next to him to grab his collar and haul him to his feet.

"Now," He held the man upright, "You'll apologize to Ms. Smith and then I'll never see your useless face again. Am I understood?"

The man nodded and John released him. He staggered a moment before muttering out an apology. John went to hold him again but Anna shook her head, holding a hand to her mouth. He pushed the man toward the exit of the alley.

"Get your sorry ass as far away from here as you can before I decide to break it as well." He hobbled off and John turned to Anna. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, her shaking hands leaving her face as she tried to restore herself. John noted her scattered folio and her tossed bag as she bent down. He put a hand to her shoulder, swallowing back when she flinched under his touch, and bent himself to retrieve her things.

"If you'll allow me, Ms. Smith." He gathered the spread contents of her handbag, placing them as gently as possible, and then picked up the pages of her folio. Some stained in the dirt of the street and others bore the shoe and boot prints that John recognized as his own and possibly the other man's. A few were torn or only held by delicate edges and John handled them as gingerly as possible before making certain there were no other pieces in the street.

Handing the folio and the handbag back to Anna he stepped back. "If there's anything else I can do…"

"I think, Mr. Bates, you've done quite enough."

He blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"As well you should be." She faced him, the red in her cheeks flushing out as the volume of her voice grew. "I've handled myself just fine before now and I don't need your aid."

"I was only trying to-"

"I'm sure Mr. Branson managed to tell you some things about how the people around here treat me. And I know you protected my daughter from the slurs of Alex Green and his posse and I find that noble, in a way, but it's caused me no end of suffering and I'll ask you to please leave off it."

"Ms. Smith I don't think you understand what I'm trying to-"

"You're being the hero, Mr. Bates. Whether or not you think that of yourself it's what you are and what you'll drive yourself to do. Whatever you think you're doing, trying to preserve my honor to force the people in this town to offer me the remains of my dignity or their respect, it has to stop before it comes off worse for my daughter and I."

"He had no right to say what he did."

"They've every right!" Her voice cracked and she sank back toward the wall, wiping at her eyes. "They've decided that their pain is worse than mine and they've sought solace in bullying me. It's what happens when the world is unfair, Mr. Bates, and it's what I've come to accept."

"It's not right."

"It doesn't matter if it's right. All that matters is that your interference makes it all worse." Anna pushed from the wall, avoiding his hand. "Don't help me, Mr. Bates, because I'm beyond it."

"No one's beyond help."

"I am." Anna swallowed, "If you… I'm grateful for the kindness you've shown my daughter and I. I can never repay you for that's meant to me, but I'd ask you not to involve yourself where it does not concern you any longer."

She left the alley and John stared after her. He went to put his hand through his hair but his fingers stung and he hissed as he saw the broken skin of his bruised knuckles. John went to leave the alley but caught sight of a flapping piece of paper caught between two boards.

He got down on a knee to retrieve it and covered his mouth with one hand. It was a picture of him with Katie-Anne on his shoulders. John held it carefully and raced after Anna, catching her before she entered the alley where his truck parked.

"What's this?" He held it before her and Anna froze, paling as she reached for the drawing but John kept it just out of reach. "I'd like an answer and then it's yours back."

"You're putting conditions on returning my property?"

"After your rather vehement assertion that I'm only making life more difficult for you I'd like to ask why you drew this."

Anna's jaw tightened. "I'm entitled to draw what I like."

"Did you do this yesterday? When I had her on my shoulders to help put books on the higher shelves? Because I saw you sketching in the corner and every time your eyes darted toward us I thought it was just so you could make sure Katie-Anne was safe."

"That was never in question."

"Then why?"

"Because you're the first man who doesn't frighten her. I wanted to capture that moment." Anna ducked her head. "It was supposed to be a surprise. A gift for you in gratitude for what you've done for us."

"And then what? You'd just walk away?"

"What else can I do, Mr. Bates?" Anna gestured around her. "This is a small island and if I stay here I'm doomed."

"You're not doomed."

"Aren't I?"

"Of course not."

"Don't lie to me Mr. Bates. It's insulting and doesn't become you."

John blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Don't think the space between your ceilings and my floors are so far I couldn't hear what you and your mother said last night."

"I think you mean what my mother said last night." John bristled, "I want you both to stay and hang anyone who disagrees."

"Why?"

"Because I…" John stopped, "Because I think I love you, Ms. Smith. Or I think it's love. If it's affection or deep regard or respect or whatever other emotions I can name it's all of them and then some. But what I feel for you, Ms. Smith, is what I define as love and while it may not be gentlemanly to say it, I'm not a gentleman and I don't pretend to be."

They stood in silence a moment before Anna ran her fingers gently over his hand. "You're a gentleman to me and I never met a finer one."

"Then tell me what to do, Ms. Smith. Tell me how to help you."

"Leave us to fend for ourselves and tend to your shop, Mr. Bates." Anna drew away, "It's all any of us can do."

She left John standing alone in the alley, not taking a second to look back.


	5. To Fetch a Pail of Water

John forced a smile to stretch his cheeks as he handed over the change and the woman took the book before leaving. "Have a pleasant day."

"Like the day you're having?"

He frowned, the trill in her voice catching him. "Sorry?"

"Don't think I didn't notice the way your expression's been turned down since I entered the shop." She held up the book, "Do you really believe I'd need to buy a book like this?"

John inspected the title and shrugged, "You never know what kinds of books people'll read miss."

"It's Vera." She extended her hand over the counter and John shook it. "And the honest answer is that I took this book hoping you'd be paying enough attention to correct me but your head's so far up in the clouds I worry you'll run out of air."

"I've been a little distracted." John shrugged, "And you never know, you might appreciate the poetry of Burns."

"I'm not Scottish."

"I could hear that." He pointed at her, "It's a lovely taste of home there."

"Then you are from the Emerald Isle?"

"Born there, raised in London, now here." John managed another shrug, "You never know where life will lead you."

"Sure enough." Vera tapped the book on the counter. "I don't suppose you'd mind helping me find poetry a bit more suitable?"

"Depends on what situation you're intending to suit with the poetry."

"Seduction."

John's eyebrows brushed the line of his hair. "And I thought there weren't any forward women left in the world."

"In terms of one of the only single, eligible men on an island as small as this?" She laughed, shaking her head. "You're either blind or oblivious Mr. Bates."

"It's John and your earlier assessment would seem to indicate both."

"I think it's a temporary problem, not a permanent one." Vera smiled, "How's a woman to go about seducing you, Mr. Bates, since you've avoided the efforts of a number of women?"

"I guess I'm looking for things more than they'd show off at the market Ms. Vera."

"It's just Vera. Vera Sadler." She sighed, "Then perhaps I'm barking up the wrong tree."

"Perhaps the tree's not full grown yet."

"I'm not building a treehouse. I'm not even trying to put up a swing. All I need to do is look at the tree and see if it's viable." Vera waited and John snorted through his nose. "That is the first step in the art of seduction."

"Alright, how would you go about seducing me, Vera?"

"I thought I might ask you to come to dinner, like a normal person would do, and then I might suggest we go to the pub for the music. It's a local band so they're a bit bad but then we'd have more to discuss." She held up the book in her hand. "Unless you want to try and talk to me about poetry."

"Don't think I can't?"

"I don't know if I'd want that." She shrugged, shoving the book a bit carelessly into her bag. "Poetry's not for me."

"Then why buy the book?"

"Because eventually you'll have to use it to try and seduce me in return." Vera winked, dodging out of Anna's way to leave the shop. "I'll see you at the Broken Broom at six on the dot Mr. Bates."

John waved her out of the shop, the first ghost of a smile on his face. It immediately vanished when he met Anna's tight jaw. "What?"

"You're meeting Vera Sadler at the Broken Broom?"

"She invited me." John grabbed a pile of books, going around the edge of the counter to file them away. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Anna forced a smile, taking the stairs up toward her flat. "I hope you enjoy her company."

"So do I." John paused, noting Anna had not gone farther up the stairs. "Was there something else?"

"I just…" Anna came down a step, her hand tapping on the railing and biting her lip for a second before speaking. "I'd warn you about Ms. Sadler."

"Warn me how?" John adjusted the books in his hands, walking back over to the stairs. "Is there something I need to know about Ms. Sadler?"

"There's much to be know about Ms. Sadler but I don't care to cast aspersions."

John frowned, "Then why say anything at all?"

"Because, Mr. Bates, you've done me more than a few kindnesses and I wouldn't want you to find yourself in a position because I thought propriety demanded I should stay silent."

"But you won't tell me what I should worry about?"

"I'll tell you, Mr. Bates, that she's a selfish person." Anna shook her head, "She's made quite a reputation for herself using men to her advantage."

"What advantage would I pose to her?"

"I don't know but if there's an angle to what she does I don't want to see you caught in the middle of her plot."

"And you're worried about me?" John bit at his cheek, "I thought we weren't anything to each other?"

"I never said you weren't anything to me, Mr. Bates." Anna pulled at her fingers, focusing on them before finally meeting his eyes. "I just said there's nothing for us. I can't be anything significant to you… in that way. But I believe you to be someone I not only respect but also someone who's greatly affected my daughter's life positively. That's something I can't repay and I want to express gratitude in whatever way I can."

"There's nothing to repay, Ms. Smith." John shrugged, reshuffling the books in his arms. "It's human to care for those in your vicinity."

"But not everyone does that and Katie-Anne's not had much of it in her life."

"Neither have you." He watched Anna but she refused to meet his eyes. "But I guess that doesn't matter as much as your daughter's happiness."

"She's my life, Mr. Bates, but you are also important to me."

"And you'd repay my kindnesses by warning me of about another woman?" John sucked his cheek a moment. "Are we those kind of friend, Ms. Smith?"

"I'd like to think we could be whatever kind of friends you'll allow." She pulled at her fingers again and John covered her hands with his, stopping her motions. Anna raised her head slowly to finally meet his gaze, "I know what I said, the other day, was-"

"I'm sure you said what you thought was necessary." John took a deep breath, debating taking his hand back but remaining in place at the slight stroke of her finger on his palm. "I won't deny that it was painful to hear but I don't believe you've malicious intent. Or a cruel bone in your body."

"Do you always believe the best in people, Mr. Bates?"

"I've seen too much of the worst in people to want to believe in that anymore." John stepped away from her, his fingers struggling to leave her hands until the last second and the reward being the flutter of her fingers to brush his. "I want to believe the world is a better place. That people are better, or that they can be, and the best way I can believe that is to see it."

"May we all learn to see the world as you do." Anna took a deep breath, "But I'd ask you not be so optimistic about the world you believe in that you forget the world before your eyes."

"I think you're talking about those things we don't see, Ms. Smith." John shelved one of the books, turning back over his shoulder to see her. "The worlds that live on the edges of our vision."

"Those are the shadows where danger hides, Mr. Bates." Anna put her hand to the bannister, ready to walk up the stairs. "That's all I warn about. What could possibly await you in the shadows."

"I'll take that under advisement." John met her eyes, "As a friend."

She did not respond, only aimed back up the stairs.

John shook his head, filing the books away and then turning to the door as the bell over it jingled. "Welcome to Bates' Bookshop. How can I help you today?"

* * *

John pulled his shirt cuff toward his wrist, shrugging in the shirt and frowning at himself in the mirror. A cough from the door had him turning over his shoulder to see his mother staring at him from above the spectacles perched on her nose. "I do hope that's not a suit from before the war."

"It's the only one I have that's not my Sunday best or my uniform." John tugged at the jacket before slapping his hands on his trousers while shrugging. "Both of those seem a bit inadequate for this."

"I heard through the grapevine that you agreed to meet with Vera Sadler at the Broken Broom."

"Which little bird told you that?" John managed a smirk, about-facing the mirror again to check over himself. He shivered as his mother's fingers pulled at his collar to better flatten it against his suit jacket. "Thank you."

"It's difficult for it to lie flat when you have to move your shoulders to do it." She patted at his back and moved around to lean on the mirror, staring at him as he continued to fiddle with his cuffs. "And there's more than enough magpies in this town to sing about anything and everything if you give them the opening note. Unfortunately for you, you're always an opening note for the women of this town."

"I do hope that's not a tone in your voice." John eyed his mother, the similarities in their grins coming down the crooked rise of the lip in their smirks. "You're the one who told me I need to investigate my prospects."

"Vera Sadler's not the woman I had in mind for that."

"And why not?"

"For starters, she was one who knew how to work the Germans to her advantage." Mrs. Bates folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not one to oppose the idea of getting one over on the enemy but she worked with them. Swindled good people out of their money in her running of the general store with markups that drove many people to near starvation."

"I thought the Germans did that." John paused and his mother nodded.

"Someone had to run the store and she knew how to run them too."

"I'm sure what we do to survive shouldn't be the stick by which we're measured." John hauled in a breath and then let it out, checking the hang of his jacket and trousers. "I did things in war that you wouldn't want me writing home about."

"I'm sure they would've blackened out all the details all the same." His mother pulled one of the ties off the bed before John could reach for it, pulling his collar up to wrap it around his throat and tie it in place. "What we do in war time is not an expression of our best selves."

"It was for some." Mrs. Bates pulled the tie tight and John coughed, putting his hand over hers to tug it looser. "Sometimes it's the hardship that tells us the quality of the characters around us."

"I do hope you're not about to warn me away from a single woman when you wanted me courting all of them."

"I didn't mean you had to blind yourself and then turn in a circle to settle on one."

John scowled, "I didn't. She came into the shop and started up a conversation. It was one of the better exchanges I've had for some time."

"Flash in a pan."

"You don't know that."

"I know people, Johnny, and Vera Sadler-"

"Is my companion for the evening and nothing more." John clicked his teeth. "The way you and Ms. Smith carry on you'd think I committed to marriage instead of dinner at the Broken Broom."

"I shudder to think what would happen if you decided to marry that woman."

"I don't even know her, Mother." John patted himself over. "Think I'm ready?"

"I should hope so. You've been home three months and this is the most out in public I've seen you." She smiled, brushing her hands over his shoulders. "Just promise me you won't get too drunk."

"I don't drink at all." John leaned down, pecking his mother's cheek before pulling back. "I'll be home before you know it. You won't even need to bring out your midnight oil."

"I should hope not. The shop opens by eight."

John snagged his wallet and the key before leaving by the back staircase. For a moment he paused, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, and turned his head up to see a little face pressed to the window above him. He waved and Katie-Anne's little hand frantically flapped back at him. With a smile, John made his way into town.

The chill of the evening had him tugging a bit tighter on his jacket and rubbing his hands together. His teeth chattered as he went to stand in front of the door but his jaw dropped at the sight of Vera in a red dress with a swooping neckline. She smiled at him, the uptick in her lip a bit of an appraisal as she eyed him up and down.

"I heard military men were punctual but I didn't expect this."

"I aim to please." He coughed, clearing his throat. "You look very dazzling this evening Ms. Sadler."

"I hope dazzling enough that we not use our surnames for the remainder of the evening." Her hand went forward, grasping his wrist to direct them through the doors. "I don't think I could stand on ceremony throughout our date."

"It's difficult to forget your manners when they're all that's giving you the power of speech." John followed her in the tight corridor until they emerged in a cloud of smoke and the settling stench of liquor. "Is this your favorite place?"

"It's where anything fun happens on this rock." Vera dragged him to the bar and slapped the top once. "Two of your best brews Ms. O'Brien. We've got a soldier, returned home, who needs a bit of liquid courage for the evening."

"None for-" John never finished his sentence as Vera pressed a glass into his hand, barely avoiding the slopping froth from landing on his shoes. "I don't drink."

"All soldiers drink, John." Vera clinked her glass against his. "And this is the best brew on the island. By far the favorite of the Germans when they were here, and my personal salvation."

"Salvation?" John sipped at the edge, avoiding covering his upper lip in the foam. "How so?"

"There's much you can do with someone when they're drunk." Vera nodded her head toward a back table. "This'll be the best spot."

"I do hope you're not going to get me drunk Vera." John took his place in the booth, Vera meeting his eyes over their glasses.

"I doubt I could manage that." She pulled at her drink, licking over her red lips before pulling her tongue over her teeth. "You're Irish and this isn't even a difficult brew."

"I've not drunk since the beginning of the war." John managed a pull of his own drink, swallowing past the tickle in his throat. "The night before I went to training was the last time."

"I thought war drove men to drink."

"Maybe other men. But I was so hung over the next day that I swore off drink for the rest of the war."

"Must've been horrible." Vera took a drink of hers, comparing the heights of their glasses. "What did you do?"

"I almost vomited on the bus and then did the moment they had us start running the fields." John shuddered, "It was not a pretty sight and our sergeant then forced my unit to run until midnight. I slept with short sheets for a week after that and a number of other reimbursements for what I put the men in my unit through."

"Sounds awful." Vera finished her glass and raised a hand for the passing boy. "Get us two more of these and a steak-and-kidney. Fish and chips might not go amiss either."

The boy nodded and hurried off, holding the empty glass in one hand and his tray to his body with the other. John followed his progress through the congested tables and the wafting smoke to focus on the little stage in the corner next to a piano. Hunched over the keys, playing a jazzy beat, a black man sat as he flashed a bright smile toward a blonde woman.

John nodded toward him. "Who's the player? He's not the one I remember."

"The negro?" Vera shrugged, her brow furrowing and a dark look flashing over her face a moment. "That's Ross. He was one of the Americans stationed in England during the war. He met Rose, the blonde hussy near him, and they came here when her uncle took a turn right after the Germans left."

"Who's her uncle?" John worked through the sentence, noting the dismissive expression on Vera's face.

"The Bailiff of the island, Robert too-good-for-us Crawley." Vera snorted and then took the basket of fish and chips from the boy with one hand her refilled drink with the other. "She's just like the rest of them except for the negro she married."

"Is that why they came?"

"I suspect she had to do something to get away from her mother when she told them she was going to have a darkie baby." Vera nodded at the fish and chips between them. "Don't tell me all that time abroad made you too good for our food."

"Made me miss it more." John dug into the basket, taking a deep whiff of the salt and vinegar. "Did you have much of this while the Germans were here?"

"We had more sauerkraut than I ever want to even imagine again." Vera shook her head, pausing a moment as her eyes narrowed. "What'd your mother tell you about me?"

"Sorry?"

"I'm not a fool John." Vera snatched a napkin, wiping at her fingers as she sat back in the booth. "There are stories over this town about you and your heroic daring-dos in the war so I imagine your mother might've let slip one or two things she heard about me during the war."

"Should I listen to any of it?" John pushed his full glass away from his half-filled one. "Because I think they might be carrying around perceptions that aren't always true."

"Is that why you broke Alex Green's nose? Because his perceptions of Anna Smith aren't true?"

"He accosted her."

"But that's not the first time you took it upon yourself to defend her." Vera chuckled at John's confused furrow. "Your war stories aren't the only ones to make their way around town John. Alex Green likes to talk before you fill him with alcohol. He was more than willing to share to everyone in every pub how the son of the bookshop owner was acting the white knight for the most well-known Jerry-Bag on the island."

"Don't call her that."

"Why not?" Vera snatched a few more chips. "Even if there was talk about the misuse of power, what happened to her was no more or less than what happened to many others as victims of war. The French whores they peddled onto the island or the Slavs they brought to work here… They had their own outcasts for what happened to them."

"She didn't want what happened."

"No one wanted what happened, John." Vera put a hand on her new glass, taking a drink. "To the people here it doesn't matter if she was willing to not. The fact that she let a German touch her without fighting to her dying breath makes her a Jerry-Bag. And do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because the whole island's ashamed they were abandoned to their own devices by England and that they rolled over and exposed their belly to the enemy." Vera scoffed, "An island of hypocrites, that's what we are."

"You don't seem to fussed about it."

"I'm Irish, John." Vera winked at him. "What I saw was opportunity and I think the rumors you'll hear about me would seek to disparage my actions during the occupation the way they insult Ms. Smith. But, unlike Ms. Smith, I've got nothing to regret in what happened to me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm still alive and they're gone." Vera raised her glass, "To keeping calm and carrying on."

John waited a moment and then clinked his glass, finishing the contents and then reaching for the second one. "To carrying on."

At the end of the evening, three full glasses finished on his side, John paid their tab and escorted Vera home. Her hand clung to his arm and his jacket about her shoulders as their breath puffed from their mouths. She staggered more than he did but John blinked every block or so to focus his eyes.

They reached her door and Vera slapped a hand on his chest. "I don't suppose that you'd accept an invitation to my flat."

"In our states, Vera," John held her hands, taking them from his jacket. "I believe we'd have difficulty remembering anything or even accomplishing anything."

"I think you underestimate me Mr. Bates." She emphasized, tilting a bit until John righted her. "I'm Irish and what we can accomplish when under the influence has surprised a great many men."

"I think we ought to wait to be surprised." John took a step back, making sure Vera's key was in her hand in the door before he went back to the pavement. "Sleep well Vera."

"I'd sleep better with company."

"Not tonight I'm afraid." John put his fingers to his head, tipping his hat to her. "Good evening."

"We'll see one another again John." Vera pointed her finger at him and stumbled through her door.

"Wait, my jack-"

The door shut and John shrugged, rubbing at his arms as he walked toward home. His steps clacked over the pavement, hitting the cobbles occasionally as the haze of drink tried to fog his mind. But his movement and the chill of the night, billowing his breath around him, kept the influence at bay.

Reaching the back stairs to his flat he noted the dark windows but remained on tiptoe to carry himself to the back door. His key slipped twice before he managed to turn it and opened the door. It closed with a snap and John paused, listening in the darkness for noises but when nothing happened he continued toward his room.

A splash of cold water, a change of clothes, and a brush of his teeth had John in bed. But as he stared up into the darkness he heard the putter of feet in the room above his. He frowned, pushing himself up from his mattress to walk into the corridor with the stairs. There he almost ran into Anna as she descended from above.

Her hand over her mouth covered the little shriek when they collided and John's hands flew out to hold her arms. She twisted from his grip quickly and her palm shot forward to knock his jaw. John stumbled back, the snap of the strike sending shooting pains into his already fogged brain as his teeth clacked together.

"Mr. Bates!" She hissed, reaching out for him but John supported himself on the wall, fingers feeling over his jaw. "I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

"It's fine." John flexed his jaw and squinted in the dark to try and see her. "What are you doing up so late Ms. Smith?"

"The back door snapped and it woke me up. I heard noises and…" She took a breath, "I forgot you were out for the evening and came to check the door."

"I'll keep in mind to warn all the occupants of the house next time." John straightened, the combination of sensations running riot in his head. "Where did you learn to hit like that?"

"Mr. Branson's taught me a few things." Anna massaged her hand and then reached it forward, curling her fingers back to her palm as she retracted her arm at the last moment. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"You didn't break my jaw or crack any of my teeth." John ran his tongue over them. "Nothing's chipped so there's no harm done."

"I am sorry." Anna twisted her fingers in a tight grip. "How was… Never mind."

"What?"

Anna shook her head, "It's none of my business and I've no right to pry."

"It's not prying." John opened his hand toward her. "I had a lovely evening, if that was your question."

"It was." She gave a nervous laugh. "Katie-Anne asked me where you were going and told me she waved you off when you left. Said she hoped she gave you good luck."

"I'll make sure to thank her in the morning." John paused, shuffling in place. "I hope she had a good evening."

"Went out like a light after her second story." Anna shrugged, "She's enjoying the book of fairy tales you suggested to her. Devours it more than reads it."

"That's good." John bit the inside of her cheek. "And your search, for that position in London?"

"Still in the waiting phase, I'm afraid." Anna jerked her thumb behind her. "I'd best get on. It'll be an early morning, with Katie-Anne, and with-"

"The shop." John nodded, taking his own step back to break their conversation. "I hope you sleep well, Ms. Smith. I apologize for the noise."

"It'll just take getting used to."

"Sorry?"

"Well," Anna stopped, her hand on the bottom of the bannister, "If you continue seeing Ms. Sadler, or anyone else, then I should get used to the possibility of sounds later in the evening."

"I guess you would." John flexed his jaw. "I'll keep it in mind and make sure to not create such a racket, in future."

"It's much appreciated." Anna nodded at him. "Good night, Mr. Bates."

"Good night Ms. Smith."


	6. All Fall Down

Unraveling his scarf, he draped it over her neck and then tied it tight to bring her in close. "You look positively frozen, Ms. Sadler."

"And you'll look a fool if you take to kissing me in the street." She grinned at him but they pecked quickly on the lips before Vera pulled away. "I've got to get on before my shop sells without me and my workers think I'm superfluous."

"We can't have that." John snuck another quick kiss and then darted away. "I'll see you this evening?"

"I wouldn't miss it." She grinned at him, ducking away toward her shop as John hurried back toward the crates of books.

Signing quickly for them, blowing into his gloved hands, John pushed the crates into the bed of his lorry and secured them before covering it all with a tarp. He yanked the door open, sliding into the seat and turning the engine over as his hands rubbed over themselves to try and bring heat the tips of his fingers. It took a moment for the rumbling engine to get started but when it did he steered it down the familiar roads and pulled to a stop around the back of the Crawley house.

The back door opened and John pulled his keys from the engine. He waved at Branson and left the cab to help pull one of the two crates out of the bed. Branson, shivering next to him, shook his head.

"It's brass monkeys out here."

"Welcome to winter Mr. Branson." John followed him inside the house, sighing with relief at the steady heat of the kitchen. "And I thought you weren't the fetch-and-carry here anymore."

"In the six months you've been home you haven't learn there's more to it than that?" Branson tapped the side of his nose and dug into the refrigerator to hand John a bottle. "There are things one does to attempt to impress the opposite sex."

"I can attest to that." John took the bottle, popping the top off like Branson did. "Though I can't say I know what you've been up to."

"It's not been drinking all the pubs in the town dry." Branson winked and John cringed, "I guess you're not as dry as you used to be."

"I guess Vera brings out another side to me."

"The side where fun and danger intermix?" Branson waited and then held up a hand. "It's not my place to judge. Vera's one of the only countrymen on this island and she actually still spoke to me when everyone else would ostracize me. Who am I to make a comment one way or the other?"

"People tend to find ways to make comments every which way." John sipped from his drink, "My mother's one of them."

"Have they met?"

"They will tonight. I invited Vera for dinner and I'll be making what I can of a feast." John shrugged, "It's almost Valentine's Day."

"Did you exchange gifts at Christmas?"

"There might've been some exchange at Christmas." John refused to meet Branson's eyes, the heat rising in his cheeks. "But that's not something a gentleman discusses."

"And yet?" Branson snorted, pulling from his bottle. "Do you like her?"

"I wouldn't spend so much time with her if I didn't."

"Then can I ask, do you love her?"

John shrugged, "I can't even rightly say I know what that is."

"I think we all know when we've found that with someone." Branson finished his bottle, "I know I've found it."

"How's that, by the way?"

"You'd think that Mr. Crawley having a niece married to the only black man on the island would make him a bit more amenable but the man's a monarchist, a loyalist, and a very proud military man." Branson sighed, shaking his head. "The fact I'm a socialist, anti-British, and I didn't serve drive him mad."

"But they're not issues for Sybil?"

"Sybil's of a different mind than her father." Branson put a hand through his hair, scratch at the back of his neck. "She's… She's of my mind."

"Freedom for Ireland?"

"Freedom of thought. She believes in the changing world, a dynamic approach to reality, and everything the future can offer." Branson grinned, "She wants to break through into a world where they're talking about space travel and women holding jobs that are more than shops. That's the world I believe in."

"American capitalism?"

"The rise and fall of man in his lifetime with tangible rewards for his struggle?" Branson raised his eyebrows, "Don't tell me you don't see the possibilities there."

"I see them." John finished his drink, putting the bottle with Branson's. "I just like the quiet life I have with a small bookshop in a small town on a small island. I don't need more than that."

"Not everyone's like you."

"And we're a better world for it." John bent to pick up a crate, Branson managing the other one. "I'm sure my mother knows these trips take so long because you distract me."

"These days she'll think you're distracted by your lady friend."

"I'm sure you'll do nothing to help dissuade her from that belief."

"It wouldn't be fun if I did." Branson opened the door with his shoulder and they walked toward the library together. "Besides, shouldn't she be happy you're associating with the female side of things given that you're still unmarried and there are women waiting to find husbands?"

"It seems my choices aren't the kind my mother approves of." John set the crate on a corner table, Branson following suit. "The fact that Vera and I are very close isn't to her liking."

"Do you think she'll change her mind?"

"My mother's stubborn." John shook his head, "But she didn't like my first choice either so perhaps she's just picky."

"First choice?" Branson frowned, taking a stack of books from John to sort onto a small bookshelf while John collected some of the scattered ones and returned them to the now-empty crate.

"I did express an interest in Ms. Smith when I first arrived."

"Ah," Branson nodded, managing the books into their places.

"She thought I'd be making a mistake taking on the child of another man and a divorcee."

"I'm not sure I would've used that term to describe her."

"I wouldn't either but it was a bit or a row between my mother and I. One that only aggravated…" John stopped, shaking his head. "It's in the past and I shouldn't worry over it any longer."

"Did you and Ms. Smith have a falling out?"

"I don't think you could call it that." John frowned, "She told me, in no uncertain terms, I was to stop playing hero."

Branson cringed, "Did you?"

"After I broke Green's nose no one's really taken to bothering her." John shrugged, "She still allows Katie-Anne to come on some of the deliveries with me and we're friends, of a sort, but that's about all we are I think."

"And neighbors." Branson winked at John, "Perhaps if she heard a few of your nighttime activities she might get curious."

"I'd have to want to risk the fires of Hell itself to risk my mother hearing any nighttime activities." John aimed a book at Branson's head but the other man caught it. "Besides, my experience tells me that women don't like the idea of competition in that way. They're not about judging size."

"Maybe not." Branson paused, "But in all seriousness, I think you're making a mistake."

"With what?"

"To let Ms. Smith go." Branson lowered his voice, "You're one of the first people to treat that woman with any dignity. She needs someone with your compassion."

"And while I appreciate the sentiment, she did not."

"Then stop breaking the noses of people and just stick to being charming."

"Bit late for that now that I've got Vera."

"But Vera doesn't make you happy."

John stopped, facing Branson. "And what makes you so sure, Mr. Branson?"

"Because of the way you talk about Anna." Branson put up his hands, "I'm just saying that you wouldn't still be sore about a falling out if you were truly in love with the woman you're with now. In my experience, men don't bemoan the loss of a love if they've got another one."

"And you think I don't love Vera?"

"I think you need to expose yourself to the possibility that you don't love her and that you're still in love with someone else." Branson shook his head, "You'll do an injustice to three people if you keep going like this."

"Three people?"

"To Ms. Sadler, for leading her on. To yourself, for believing you love someone you don't. And to Anna."

"Anna already said she'd rather I not interfere."

"And women always tell the truth?" Branson raised an eyebrow, handing John a stack of books. "I'm not saying to force yourself in her direction or break down her door so she succumbs to your flirtations or anything but I think women aren't always as open as they pretend to be."

"And she's what? Hiding something from me about her feelings?"

"Women are notorious for thinking we can read their minds and then acting like we're supposed to know what they're thinking." Branson tapped his forehead with a finger. "They want you to instinctively know what they were thinking without telling you because it's all a game to them."

"I don't want it to be a game."

"No one does but we've got to learn how to stumble through play until we get what we all want."

"Which is?"

"Married." Branson laughed, "Maybe you're worse at this than I thought."

John almost threw another book at him.

* * *

He lit the last candle, blowing out the match as he adjusted the cover on one of the dishes just so. A whistling from the stove took him back into the other room, removing the kettle from the gas to pour into the pot. With one hand he controlled the pour while the other shut off the gas before checking the contents of a simmering pan. Wafting smells had him replacing the lid, managing the kettle to the side before taking the tea tray into the other room.

"I do hope those delicious smells mean your Ms. Sadler is to be here soon." John looked up as his mother entered, pulling at a red paper heart pinned to her shirt. "It's not too childish is it?"

"What is it?"

"Katie-Anne made one for me while her mother was at the Crawleys' today." She dug into her pocket and extracted another one, reaching forward to pin it to John's vest. "She wanted me to give this one to you."

"How kind." John held still for the pin to pierce his vest and then tilted his heard down to look at it. "She does good work."

"She said you'd be her valentine this year since Michel's in France."

John laughed, going back to the kitchen to shut off the rest of the gas burners and bring the simmering pan to the table. He placed it carefully in the middle and then stepped back, letting out a deep breath. "I think it's all ready."

"Then all we're missing is your…" Mrs. Bates stopped, "What do I call her?"

"You can call her Vera." John held up a finger at the sound a ringing bell. "And there she is."

"Don't freeze the poor dear out then." Mrs. Bates straightened her blouse, waving at the door. "Let her in so we can eat. I'm nearly starved."

John hurried down the stairs and opened the door, stepping back as Vera entered the room. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you myself."

"I was meant to understand there was a feast to be had so I understand the alteration in priorities." Vera paused, pulling her scarf from her face. "I do hope this priority's not to be wasted."

"Never." John leaned forward, kissing her chilled lips and shivering at the cold of her fingers on his face. "You're half frozen."

"I could suggest a quick way for you to warm us up." She ran her tongue along his lips and John went in for another kiss before drawing back.

"My mother's just upstairs and I promised you food."

"You did." Vera unwound the scarf, using it to pull John closer. "And afterward I do hope there's another feast."

John shivered, the hitch in his breathing taking a moment to try and control as he took Vera's coat and led her up the stairs to his flat. At the top he busied himself putting her coat on the hanger with his scarf and then escorting Vera into the sitting room. His mother, her reading spectacles perched on her nose, looked up and hurried to put her book to the side.

"It's good to finally meet you." She extended her hand and Vera took it, both shaking for a moment. "Your hands are ice."

"I offered John the chance to warm them up but he told me there was food and I thought I'd want to risk his cooking before I decided on that step." Vera laughed and John winced slightly, his mother's eyes flicking to scowl at him.

"I do hope John's enough of a gentleman not to take a risk."

"I don't need a gentleman to warm me up." Vera put her hand on John's arm, rubbing over it. "But I do want to see if he is the chef he claims."

"I never claimed chef." John held up a finger, leading Vera to the table. "But it is better than fish and chips at the Broken Broom."

"And no negro piano player." Vera took her seat and John pushed it toward the table. "Already the atmosphere is improved."

"Are you not a fan of Mr. Ross's turn at the piano, Vera?" Mrs. Bates asked, setting her napkin on her lap.

"He's finer, for a piano player, but that's about all he'd be good for." Vera held her glass up toward John. "I do hope you've got something a bit more fine than the Broken Broom's brew too."

"I thought you said it was the best on the island?" John teased, going to the credenza and pulling the bottle of wine there, popping the cork so it could breathe a moment and then pouring for his mother and Vera.

"For an evening with fish and chips, it's fine. But you just promised me better than fish and chips." Vera took the glass, her fingers grazing over John's jaw as he leaned forward to make sure nothing spilled on the tablecloth. "Much better, I hope."

John cleared his throat, pulling back to fill his own glass and met his mother's frown from across the table. He poured anyway and then set the bottle in the middle of the table before pulling the covers off the dishes. "I do hope no one minds a bit of French cuisine. Something I learned on one of my missions."

"Were you undercover as a chef?"

"John's father taught him to cook." Mrs. Bates spoke, her fingers twisting around the stem of her glass. "He was a chef by training in Ireland and then I taught John a few more basic meals for the kitchen."

"Then he got the spectrum: fashion and function." Vera shrugged, drinking her wine and then hissing. "This is a fine vintage."

"It was a gift from the Crawleys." John ducked his head, "For services rendered."

"Not the kind of services I'd like rendered." Vera winked at him again and John hurried to speak but his mother interrupted.

"John saved Bailiff Crawley's life in the war. Stopped him taking a grenade."

"Maybe the better service would've been to let him take the grenade." Vera shuddered, smiling at John as he dished food onto her plate. "Perhaps it would've taught him a lesson."

"I don't wish any lessons on anyone I wouldn't want for myself."

"There's nothing wrong with watching the high and mighty fall down a peg or two."

"Do you think of them as the high and mighty?" Mrs. Bates's eyes narrowed to a dangerous slit. "Because they're some of the best people I've ever met."

"It is a small island." Vera conceded and John interrupted before his mother could speak.

"Perhaps we should say grace and begin. They're not dishes best served cold."

While the food piped hot the conversation never warmed. As the night grew darker and colder, the room itself chilled to the point the barbs passed between Vera and Mrs. Bates only lost their covers. Each struck with more accuracy than the last until John finally announced dessert.

"I think I'll decline." Mrs. Bates patted at her mouth with her napkin, leaving it next to her plate as she stood. "I've had my fill for the evening.t"

"Vera?" John turned to her as the glass in her hand emptied again.

"I think your mother's right." Vera let her glass thump onto the table, pushing back so fast her chair almost toppled. "It's been a long evening and I'm finished."

"I'll take you home." John hurried to grab his coat and help Vera into hers, nabbing the scarf she forgot in her hurry to the door.

They did not speak for the first few minutes, the puffs of the air from their breathing the only sound other than their footsteps to accompany them. John ran sentences through his head, trying to find one to make conversation or the break the ice forming quickly between them but each felt feebler than the last. When they reached her door, she stuck her key into the lock without preamble and pushed it open.

John stood on the pavement, his hands burrowing deeper and deeper into his pockets. She raised her eyebrows and pointed inside. "Are you coming in our not?"

"I don't…" John shrugged, "What happened tonight, with my mother-"

"Are you embarrassed that she met me?"

"I wouldn't have invited you to dinner with her if I were." John frowned, "I just thought that maybe-"

"That I'm not posh enough for her?" Vera walked to his level, the acid in her tone stiffening John's spine. "That I'm fine to shag but not to keep?"

"I never said that and I certainly don't think that." John bit back. "But she is my mother and she deserves respect."

"She paid me none."

"You didn't seem all that interested in gaining any from her. Mentioning our private matters in front of her." John shook his head, "She didn't know any of it."

"You didn't tell her?"

"I don't talk about matters of the bedroom with my mother, Vera." John bit back, "And I'm not going to argue with you when you're drunk."

"We've argued drunk before."

"That's different."

"Because your mother didn't know you're drinking too?" Vera crossed her arms in front of her chest. "What else haven't you told your mother about our relationship John?"

"Nothing. Those were none of her business."

"And yet she'll judge you across the table and then spit at me like a cat?"

"You weren't playing with pads on yourself."

"I wasn't going to be defenseless in there." Vera scoffed, "She's just as stuck up as people say."

"Excuse me?"

"Your mother. She wants to be like the posh Crawley family and puts on airs with her moral high ground and her inflated self-importance."

"My mother is a fine woman and I'll ask you respect her."

Vera's face contorted to a sneer. "Is that why you didn't defend me to her?"

"You both seemed capable of handling yourselves."

"Is that why you're giving me grief over it?"

"I'm with you." John flung his arm back toward his flat. "Don't think I won't be speaking to her about her treatment of you but there's a time and a place Vera."

"And I don't have the manners or the upbringing to know when or where that is?"

"I never…" John put a hand to his forehead. "I think we shouldn't argue about this anymore."

"Why? Afraid you'll have to choose between the two of us?"

"You can get along."

"I don't think so." Vera walked back to her door. "Your choice is clear, John. Either you'll come in with me and we'll celebrate the way we should on Valentine's Day, or you'll skulk back home to take the switch your mother'll use on you for disobeying the rules."

"You can't ask that of me."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my mother, Vera. She's important to me."

"I thought I was important to me."

"You-" John put his hands to the sides of his head and growled. "You're both important to me. My compliments or comments toward her don't mean the inverse for you. It's possible to think highly of her without thinking less of you."

"But you think more of her than me."

"I think the world of you." John shuffled, his fingers turning over the shape in his pocket. "I want to share my life with you Vera."

"I don't want any life with you that includes her." Vera walked through her doorway, holding it open just a crack. "You have to make a choice John, right now."

John opened his mouth and then closed it, his teeth clacking together.

Vera nodded, "Goodbye John."

The door snapped shut and John jerked with the sound. His fingers closed over the box in his pocket and he drew it out. He examined it in the light of streetlamp and popped it open. A tiny glint from the band and the diamond set there taunted him until he shut it and thrust the box back in his pocket.

He walked home, the cold barely reaching his bones now and he only noticed when his fingers shook as he opened the door. The stairs creaked as he ascended and barely dodged out of the way of Anna. She adjusted the basket in her arms and John moved out of her way.

"Sorry." He mumbled, pulling his scarf from around his neck and hanging it up before noticing that Anna had not moved. "Do you need something?"

"I just…" Anna placed the basket more securely on her hip. "You seem very happy with her."

"What?"

"With Ms. Sadler. You seem…" Anna swallowed, "You seem very happy with her, Mr. Bates, and I'm happy for you. I'm happy she makes you happy."

"Thank you." John removed his coat, the box clunking against the wall loud enough for Anna to frown but John ignored it. "But we can all be better actors than we believed possible when the situation calls for it."

"I don't understand."

"I've mucked it all up and lost the chance to be happy… again."

"Again?"

John nodded at her. "First with you, now with Vera. It seems I'm not very good at romancing anyone."

Anna tried to answer but the door opened and John turned to see his mother. She looked between them and then tapped the heart on her chest. "Please thank Katie-Anne for these."

"I will." Anna smiled, pointing at the one John forgot he still wore. "She was very proud of that one Mr. Bates."

"It's a pity Ms. Sadler didn't notice them. They're very beautiful." Mrs. Bates smiled at Anna, "Goodnight Anna."

"Good night Mrs. Bates." Anna blinked toward the floor and then met John's eyes. "I do hope Ms. Sadler has another opportunity-"

"Ms. Sadler won't be coming around any longer." John cut her off, ignoring the way Anna startled. "Goodnight Ms. Smith."

He walked into the flat, shutting the door and walking to where his mother sat in her chair. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You chased me away from Ms. Smith because she wasn't suitable and then you chase away Vera because she's what? Uncouth, a bit unrefined, too forward? What is it about her that had you sharpening your claws and then leaving no prisoners as you rose to every taunt?"

"I've got self-respect, John Patrick Bates, and I won't have anyone insult the Crawleys in this house."

"She's not-"

"To insult Mr. Ross for his color, or his wife for her ability to see beyond that, or to wish ill on the man whose life you saved?" Mrs. Bates waited but John had no argument. "Or that you turned to drink? You know what it did to your father."

"I remember."

"And yet you'll let her lead you down the primrose path to destruction?" Mrs. Bates shuddered, "And what she suggested you've done."

"There's no suggestion about it, mother, we have."

"John!"

"Don't worry," John's face contorted, "There's no child so you needn't worry."

"And yet you took the risk there could've been?"

"I won't have a lecture about how I chose to live my life when I'm an adult."

"Who's decided to make the foolish decisions of a child and still lives under my roof." Mrs. Bates rose out of her chair, almost cowing John down even though he stood a head-and-a-half taller than her. "I'll not bear that woman in my house again."

"Then you should be overjoyed when I tell you she won't be." John pulled his tie loose, snapping it from his collar. "She's decided we're finished because I wouldn't chose her and promise never to see you."

Mrs. Bates mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

John snorted, "I guess you're both more alike than you thought."


	7. And Broke His Crown

Branson ducked the swing, keeping his fists up. "When you said you wanted to spar I thought you were going to shadow box me. Not try to take my fecking head off."

"Sorry," John shook himself, letting his arms hand a moment. "I've… I'm not myself."

"I'll say." Branson brought his fists up, dancing around John as he protected his face. "I heard you and Ms. Sadler aren't walking out anymore."

"What else did you hear?"

"Not as much as her neighbors, complaining about hollering around midnight on Valentine's Day." Branson paused, tensing his body. "Not the kind of complaints one expects around the great Saint's day."

He ducked as if expecting a swing but it never came. "Are you that cut up about it all?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Of course." Branson mimed a punch and then caught John in the abdomen. John huffed out his air and brought his other fist around to impact on Branson's chest, sending the other man sprawling.

"Sorry." John helped him back up, waiting as Branson wheezed for breath. "But you and… Which one are you walking out with again?"

Branson coughed, tried to speak, and then gave it up as a bad job before pointing toward the house. John looked up and his eyes widened to see one of the Crawley daughters walking from the house. She waved at him and John brought up a half-hearted hand to return the gesture.

"You're mad."

"How so?"

"You can't take his youngest. Any man would have your hide for stealing their baby from the cradle."

"And being a socialist." Branson managed, his voice rasping. "And she's not in the cradle and hasn't been for more years than you've lived on this island."

"It won't matter to him. He'll bring out his service weapon and give it one more use before he's got to retire it, and himself, permanently."

"We've done nothing that would give him any reason to fear for his daughter's honor. There's been no sneaking off at night or evening calls that required scaling the sides of his house." Branson thumped his chest. "Not to say I haven't thought of it but her virtue's important to me."

"Like your life I'd imagine."

"I can't think too much on my life if I'm boxing with you." Branson brought up his fists again. "If you see your friend-"

"We're not really friends."

"However you want to name what it is, I'd be very grateful if you'd put in a good word for me so his service weapon stays a display item in his library case."

"He might just use it anyway if I mention anything at all." John deflected Branson's punches and landed one on the man's shoulder. "These things are best left to those involved so others can stay clean out of it."

"Coward."

"There's nothing cowardly about self-preservation."

"Mr. Bates?" John looked up and Branson's fist impacted his jaw. He stumbled back and landed on his ass as Branson reached forward a hand to help him back up. As he stood he saw Mary Crawley, clutching tightly to the coat wrapped around her, walking toward them. "I apologize for that."

"It'll bruise up and be gone within a week." John sidestepped and wrapped a bit of ice in his scarf, pausing a moment before pressing it to his jaw. "See, problem solved."

"How very inventive." Mary faced Branson, "Papa'll need the car within the hour. He's planning a trip to City Hall and he'll need you for the rest of the day."

"I'll get changed." Branson snagged his jacket and saluted John before jogging off toward the chauffer's cottage.

John addressed Mary, maneuvering the ice on his jaw to the optimal position. "How can I be of service Mrs. Crawley?"

"I think you've already been of service but I'd like to press you into it again, if I may." She shivered, "Might we go inside. I can't stand the cold."

"As you wish." John grabbed his coat and left the trampled, makeshift ring to follow Mary back inside the house.

She led him past the library and the kitchen to a dark wooden staircase. John followed her up to the second level, eyes darting about to take in the paintings and the portraits before nodding at Mary when she opened a door to a small room off the corridor. He ducked inside and stood in the middle of the space as she entered.

Mary did not quite close the door but the position of it gave the impression of a private conversation while still maintaining propriety. She pulled at her fingers and, for a moment, John thought of Anna doing the same thing. Within a moment he refocused his attention as she spoke.

"First I'd like to offer my condolences about your recent… I'm not quite sure what to call it but whatever you had with Ms. Sadler is over and I'm sorry for whatever pain that may be causing you."

John's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "This island is a much smaller place than I thought before."

"We're a tight knit community."

"That's not the adjective I would've used."

Mary snorted, "I'm sure there are a great number of adjectives you'd rather use when everyone looking at you as you walk down the street has their own opinion in regards to your life."

"Speaking as someone with experience?"

"I'm sure you'd understand the weight of pity when you're a widow, Mr. Bates."

John nodded, "I'll imagine there is much you and Ms. Smith share with one another in regards to the opinions you have to carry in the public square."

"I wouldn't dare compete with Ms. Smith in terms of the abuse she suffers in this town, Mr. Bates." Mary swallowed, "It is, however, something I'd like to discuss with you."

"The public square?"

"Ms. Smith." Mary narrowed her eyes at him, "You are a quick one aren't you?"

"Never let the chance for a comment go unanswered, as my experience in the SOE taught me." John cracked a smile but recovered. "I apologize, I'm sure whatever you've prepared is of great importance."

"It is… Now that we're speaking like we're in a period novel." Mary shook herself, running a hand to her hair. "I'm sure you're aware that Ms. Smith's making determined plans to move to England."

"She mentioned she hopes to find a job working in publishing there."

"Yes and she'll succeed." Mary shook her head, "My sister, Edith, has a…. I'm not sure what you call him either but he's her romantic partner and he wants to offer Edith a contract that would require her to move to London. Edith, in what I suspect is the kindest thing she's done for anyone not herself, has made it clear that Anna is to be her illustrator for any of her future work."

"That seems like quite the request and I wish them both all the happiness they can manage to find there."

"But you wouldn't want Anna to go."

"Ms. Crawley…" John coughed, "Apologies, Mrs. Crawley, but my feelings aren't of any interest to Ms. Smith in this matter. I desire her happiness and, given her particularly desperate situation, I'd say that happiness isn't to be found on this island."

"I agree, that's not why I'm telling you about this."

John frowned, "I'm starting to get a very uncomfortable feeling that Ms. Smith doesn't know you're telling me this."

"She isn't one to count her chickens before they hatch but I make contingency plans for everything." Mary took a deep breath, "Anna's biggest problem, in her endeavor to leave the island, is the parentage of her child."

"Grün?"

"Exactly." Mary shook her head, "The man's dead, from what a friend of mine in the War Office could find out, and good riddance to him. But, legally, Katie-Anne is still a German citizen through her father. Given her conception and most of her life was under German occupation there are some in the Government who could make a case that she's a German citizen and deny her residence in England."

"I've a few people I could-"

"I'm not asking for your clandestine contacts, Mr. Bates, I'm asking for your honor."

John's frown only deepened. "I'm afraid I'm entirely out of my depth in this conversation Mrs. Crawley."

"I need you to help me forge documents that would claim you, a British citizen, as Katie-Anne's father."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Edith's tasked me with working through the details of this so she can focus on finalizing the contract between the publishing company and the two of them so I'm in charge of making sure Anna can actually go. As we all know, Anna won't leave this island without Katie-Anne, even if we were to take her in, and the only way to ensure Katie-Anne gets off this island is to lie about her parentage."

"And you'd risk criminal prosecution for what you're suggesting?"

"For Anna? Absolutely. Besides," Mary waved a hand as if the problem were of no more trouble to her than a fly. "With so many refugees and forged papers the government isn't going to notice another one. And given that her mother is the only one going then a dead husband is a story she can tell."

"Except I have records in the War Office and I'm very much not dead."

"Then she was yours from before the war and Katie-Anne grows a bit older than she really is. The issue still stands." Mary waited, "Will you help me or not?"

John exhaled heavily and chewed the inside of his cheek. "What would you need from me?"

"Just your signature. I can make it look as if Katie-Anne was your child from a… A night of passion or whatever you want to call it."

"I'd owe her something, wouldn't I? As her false father?"

Mary took her turn to frown. "She's not really yours."

"But it'll be my name on those documents and I can't accept the idea that anyone might believe I'm not a man of honor." John drew himself up, "If this is necessary than I want to do my part to the fullest extent. If this is a way I can take care of them, even from a distance, then I'll do it."

She studied him, her lips pursed, and then shook her head. "You are another person entirely, Mr. Bates."

"I'll take that as a sincere compliment." John stopped, "When is she leaving?"

"Edith wants the contract finalized by the end of next month but March is too quick for a lawyer to take all the time they can possibly manage to take all they can from the other party before they notice. I've a feeling she'll be moving before Liberation Day."

"Is that what they're calling it?"

"May ninth is a significant day for this island, Mr. Bates."

"I don't doubt that." John heaved in a breath, "So you think May?"

"It would be the best time, if I'm honest."

"Then tell me when the papers are ready and I'll do what's necessary." He nodded at her, "Good day, Mrs. Crawley."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bates."

John put his coat over his shoulders, his damp scarf hanging from his neck, and went out to his lorry. The door slammed and he took a moment to stare at the steering wheel. Then his hand smacked against it. Again and again until his hand throbbed and an angry red traced over it.

He pulled back, breathing so heavily it threatened to fog the windows, and turned the key. The rumbling drive back to town only sedated him long enough to park the truck outside the shop. With the signs flipped to 'closed' John did not walk in, choosing instead to set his feet on another path. The path that led him to the door of the Broken Broom. John only contemplated the door for a moment before pushing into the dark and smoky interior.

The piano played in the background, the golden-haired Crawley niece Rose singing into the microphone as she sent her glittering smiles in the direction of the piano, and the noise of the afternoon and evening crowd drown out everything. John stepped up to the bar, snapping the scarf from his neck to tuck into his pocket, and raised a hand to get the attention of the woman with a stern face behind the bar. She raised an eyebrow at him but John ignored it, holding up his bills and pointing to the bottle of amber whiskey.

"Sure you can handle that?"

"I'm Irish." John flipped out the bills and passed them over. "I'll take the whole bottle. It'll save us both time."

"Not sure you know what you're doing with something this fine." John flicked his gaze to the side, recognizing Green as the man turned himself to address John from his barstool. "You might not enjoy it as much as my friends and I."

"Then it's a shame I don't give to charity." John reached out a hand and took the bottle. "Thank you Ms. O'Brien."

"Try not to slosh yourself with it." She turned back to her other work, leaving a glass on the bar top.

John snatched it and worked his way back to a booth in the corner near Rose and Ross. She flashed him a smile as her gaze swept the room and John raised the glass to her before setting his back to the small stage. He pulled the cork from the bottle and wove it under his nose for a moment, taking a whiff of the liquid before pouring it into the glass.

Putting it to his lips, John paused as Green and four friends approached the table. Green rapped his knuckles unnecessarily against the surface and John quirked an eyebrow at him. "Trying to keep time with the music?"

"I'm here to ask if you'll share the bottle you're hoarding to yourself with some thirsty gentlemen."

"I'm sure, between the five of you, you could scrounge enough money to buy your own. Unless, of course, you already wasted your money on the lesser brews." John knocked the glass back, hissing as it hit the back of his throat. "Not sure you should have it anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Haven't you heard the adage?" John waited but the five faces appeared evermore confused. "If you take this you'll just vomit in the alley."

"Are you questioning our abilities?"

"I'm saying that if you take beer before liquor you'll be sick. It's the other way around. But since you've wasted a few hours, based on your smells and the glazed looks in your eyes, sucking down beer you'll not have the stomach for this."

Green snickered, "You like to tempt fate don't you?"

"I'm here to drink. Alone." John met each of their eyes in turn. "Since we're not friends and I don't care to know any of you better, I'd ask you please leave me to the drink I paid for and the company I came here for… which isn't you, in case you don't understand subtlety."

"Share your drink and you won't get hurt."

"You couldn't hurt me." John poured himself another glass and used it to point at the five men. "Your two friends off your left elbow there can barely stand straight. I get one on the nose and another gets an elbow to the gut and they'll be down in a pool of their own piss and vomit in a moment. Your friend, right behind your right shoulder, looks about to wet himself right now so I don't give him a good chance at the beginning. He'll probably just run for the door. Your other friend looks like he can hold his drink a bit better, commendable, and might be the only one of your sorry lot who served his country so I might have a few blows before I get him in the throat and leave him in a pile with your first two friends."

"And me?" Green folded his arms over his chest, eyes darting to the friends already sizing themselves up and giving their scowls to the one shuffling behind Green. "What would you do about me?"

"You I'd leave choking on the floor." John poured another glass. "Now you decide how you want your evening to go and we'll proceed from there. I just want it known, from the outset, that it won't end well for you."

Green snorted and lunged toward John. John tossed the third glass back and used the motion to dodge to the side. Green's fist impacted the wood of the booth and John brought the now empty glass around to crash against the side of Green's head. He tumbled sideways, falling into the table as he pressed a hand to the side of his bleeding head.

John got up, a swift shuffle putting the bottle on top of his discarded coat for safekeeping, and ignored the glass in his hand. Instead he closed his fist and impacted the nose of the first man. He staggered back into his friend, who then received John's elbow to his gut. They landed just as he predicted: sprawled on top of one another with one pissing himself through his trousers and the other vomiting over them both.

He pivoted to find only one left, the fourth man already leaving the pub in a rush. John smirked and ducked a swipe from the third man. They worked a tight circle around one another, landing blows on shoulders and abdomens before John knocked into the man's gut with an elbow. He staggered and John's elbow then came up to smack against the man's jaw. With his throat exposed John cut it sideways with the blade of his hand. The man choked and fell on top of his fellows.

"You forgot-"

John ducked Green's flail with the whiskey bottle and snagged it from the man's hand. With it tucked to his chest, John used his shoulder to drive Green to the wall. He exhaled as all the air evacuated his lungs and John used his forehead to break Green's nose again. The crack distracted Green long enough for John to punch his throat.

"I didn't forget." John examined the bottle for cracks as Green choked and heaved on the floor. "Remember, you asked for this."

John stepped over the men, grabbed his coat and the loose scarf trailing from his pocket, and walked toward the door. He dug into his wallet, still holding the bottle, and managed a few bills to leave on the counter in front of a stunned Ms. O'Brien. "For the trouble."

He walked back out into the cold, holding the bottle in one hand as he managed his buttons and arranged his scarf with the other. Breathing pressed against his bruised ribs and John winced at each deep breath. The whiskey in his system dulled some of the pain but the rest of it throbbed over his body from his jaw to his torso.

His breath puffed in front of him and he held the whiskey up toward the lights before shrugging. John walked the streets, fiddling with the cork in his fingers as he occasionally swigged from the bottle. Between the cold and the walk, John managed to keep inebriation at bay. Moving over the streets, wrapping between the buildings over and over until he was sure the cold numbed his fingers from the outside in while the alcohol numbed him from the inside out.

John went for another swig from the bottle and stopped himself, inspecting the remaining liquid. He held it toward the sky, the empty road around him, and called out to the night. "To everyone who knows unhappiness."

He poured the remaining contents over the cobblestones and then bowed to it. With a snort he turned on a heel to walk back toward his home and right into a fist. John tripped back, barely keeping his feet, and blinked at the sight in front of him.

"Thought you could get away from us." The muffled and nasally voice of Green echoed in John's ears as he curled his frigid fingers around the neck of his bottle and into a fist with his other hand. "Thought you'd just walk away from that?"

"Thought you'd learned your lesson." John muttered, counting the four people there. "Guess the one who did a runner never came back."

"He got his." Green spluttered through his broken nose. "Like you'll get yours."

"Not sure you'll go any better this round than you did the last."

"This time I brought more people."

John frowned and then crashed forward as something impacted the back of his leg. He tried to turn but a metal bar cracked across his shoulders and he barely caught himself from cracking his forehead on the ground. A foot impacted his ribs and John tried to curl inward but he did not move fast enough.

However, the foot tried to connect again. John caught the ankle on the back swing, taking another kick to the gut for his trouble, and pulled the man forward. He careened, sliding over the wet cobbles, and John rolled into the man's standing leg to trip him. They landed in a heap but John rolled onto the man's chest and pummeled him twice in the stomach before rolling over the man to knock his elbow into the man's teeth. The impact knocked a few loose and John rocked off him, leaving the attacker holding his mouth and howling in pain.

Someone brought the metal bar around and John slipped on the wet street as he tried to avoid it. His slip slid him away from the man but the bar caught his leg and John heard the sickening crunch as it impacted his knee. The pain flared, dulled by the alcohol still in his system, and John flailed around toward the man. A crash and tinkle of glass reminded him of the whiskey bottle in his hand, now shattering over the head of the man with eyes rolling back into his head.

John stopped to yank the crowbar from the dazed man, hobbling on his bleeding and shattered leg, and brought it around to the man's abdomen. He exhaled quickly and John fell on him as his leg gave out. The move had him ducking a wild haymaker from another man that John returned with a swipe of the broken bottle in his hand. The glass sliced through the man's hand and face so the street echoed with a screech of agony.

He retook his feet, backing up to a wall as the crowbar and broken bottle shook in his grip. John set his jaw, watching the remaining three men crowd him with Green just behind them. In a moment he was back in any number of alleys, facing off against his opponents, and John let his training take over.

One man took the bottle in his shoulder, John twisted the sharpened glass through the man's shirt and then took the second to release it so his fist could impact the man's face. His head bobbed back and John struck again to leave him collapsed on top of the first fallen man.

The next one swung a piece of board at John, who caught it over his back. He returned with a strike to the man's kneecap to replicate the sound of a shatter that left the man clutching at his broken appendage. The last two tried to attack together but once John knocked one along the jaw with the crowbar, the last one ran for it.

But John took too much time watching the man run. He missed the sucker punch to the back of his head or the crowbar snatched from his grasp to strike repeatedly into his gut. And eventually the alcohol could no longer dull anything but his senses.

John fell to the ground and curled there as he tried to protect himself from the attack. An attack that did not end when his eyes fluttered closed. He could not say how long it went on but he knew it continued when he finally lost consciousness.


	8. Put Him Back Together Again

He cracked his eyes open and blinked, trying to understand the light above him, and took a breath. It ached. Everything about the concept of movement ached from his hair to his toes. John could only groan and then regret making noise as it pulled muscles and injuries.

"I'd recommend you not move too much. And try not to talk, we're not sure if you've broken your jaw." John cracked his eyelids to see a man with a white mustache and Sybil Crawley standing just off his shoulder. "Although you reaching consciousness this quickly means good things."

John raised an eyebrow and Sybil hurried to speak. "You've been unconscious for at least twelve hours, Mr. Bates. The fact that you woke up now means you're not suffering from too much brain damage."

"I don't think they hit my head." John mumbled through his teeth and even attempted to smile at the man's laugh.

"And you've kept a sense of humor. That's good." He extended a hand and then retracted it. "Best not, for now, but I'm Doctor Clarkson and I'll be in charge of your primary care."

"How bad?" John managed, rolling his eyes back into his head as he considered moving and his whole body screamed for him to remain still.

"Mostly bruising. A few cracked ribs but nothing punctured internally. I'll guess you've got some hairline fractures over your clavicle and your shoulders but it's the damage to your leg that's most worrying."

John tried to tilt his head but scrunched his eyes closed in pain, which only exacerbated the ache in his skull. He opened his eyes again to blink away the light Doctor Clarkson shined there. "I'd advise against moving."

"I heard you." John gritted out and nodded toward his leg, ignoring the pain that he used to fuel a rage to keep it at bay. "What about my leg?"

"Your kneecap is shattered. Much like what you did to another one of those men who tried to injure you more than they already did. It's not impossible to fix it'll just be very difficult. And continuing to move on it, as I assume you did given the state of the other men in that street, I'd say you might've made it worse."

John rolled his eyes and then met Doctor Clarkson's face again. "I wasn't going to go down without a fight."

"And you gave them a fight. Enough of one where all but two of them are in custody for disturbing the peace, assault and battery, and what I suspect is public intoxication."

"How many of those charges do I have to answer for?"

"None, as far as Constable Willis tells me." Doctor Clarkson shrugged. "According to reports from earlier in the evening, you were attacked at the Broken Broom by the same men who then led the assault on you in the alley. I'll assume that means you're not going to suffer any ill effects from trying to defend yourself."

"Who got away?"

"Sorry?"

John swallowed, "Who got away?"

"I don't know. I'm only treating the injured and it'd be against my oath to-"

"Did Green get away?"

"I don't know who-"

"Alex Green?" Sybil stepped forward, finally speaking and John nodded at her. "I think he's missing. Someone from the group who attacked you ran for it and he's the one who told Constable Willis everything. He's the one who helped them find you before you and the other men froze outside last night."

"All the alcohol in your system protected you against frostbite and hypothermia so I guess there's something to be said for that degree of public intoxication in this case." Doctor Clarkson gathered himself. "It'll be a long road to recovery, Mr. Bates, but once we operate on your leg and get it set in place I think you'll be ready to go home in about three days."

"Three days?"

"Not too long for you is it?"

John let his shoulders attempt a shrug before he winced and gave up. "It is what it is."

"I'll leave you in the hands of Nurse Crawley here and she'll tell you what you should expect from your care for the remainder of your stay." Doctor Clarkson walked away and Sybil moved closer to John.

"As he said, it's mostly bruising and you'll be sore for awhile."

"I'm used to that." John inched a hand under the covers to feel over the bandages on his chest. "I once parachuted into Germany and crash landed in a tree. This is nothing compared to that."

"Really?"

"I had to walk away from that before they could find me and I didn't get medical help until I snuck back to England." John sighed, "It's like being back there again."

"In the war?" John nodded and turned his head to Sybil as he heard her breath catch. "Was it… Was it bad?"

"It was Hell, Nurse Crawley." John managed a deep breath, going slowly to avoid aggravating his aching body. "What I'm enduring now is nothing by comparison."

"What kind of pain are you experiencing?"

"Aches and twinges mostly." John tried to angle himself to see the leg propped up in a temporary cast. "Will that get plastered?"

"They might. The surgery's mostly to make sure there aren't bone fragments that might migrate through your veins to your heart. And to see if they can repair your kneecap enough to give you a range of motion."

"That would be nice considering I've got stairs to my flat." John risked lifting his head a bit and Sybil hurried to prop up the pillows behind him to give support. "Has my mother come by?"

"She was the one they called when they found her." Sybil shuddered. "She was in a right state but I don't know if she's still here."

"If it's business hours then she's not." John sighed, "Could you get a message to her for me?"

"Of course." Sybil grabbed for a slip board and readied her pencil. "What do you want to say?"

"Please just…" John sniffed, his eyes tearing. "Please just tell her that John says he's sorry. Johnny's sorry."

He dissolved into tears, unable to wipe them away for the pain in his arms and chest. Sybil dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, sitting on the edge of the bed, and her other hand held his. She stayed there until his tears dried and only left when he leaned back against the pillows.

"I'll get this message to her."

"Thank you." John took a deep breath. "For everything, Sybil, thank you."

"It's truly no trouble at all for the man who saved my father's life."

"That's…" John shook his head. "He's exaggerating."

"I don't think so. He's not prone to doing that about things he never discusses." Sybil held her clipboard to her chest. "As far as I know, I'm the only one he ever told the whole story."

John flicked his eyes to meet hers. "He told you what happened?"

"He wasn't feeling himself one night and I kept him company." Sybil shrugged, "He's always secretly told me that I'm his favorite."

"I don't doubt it." John settled on the pillows. "What did he tell you?"

"He said he was leading a charge forward. One he shouldn't have been because the information they received was spotty, but he pushed forward anyway. It was a trap, like he thought it might be, and he was pinned down with a few of his men. Then, out of nowhere, this German group fired on them and he had nowhere to go. He thought it was the end for him until the Germans stopped firing."

"They tend to do that when you blow up their command tent." John nodded, "I wasn't supposed to be there and he wasn't supposed to see me. But he received bad orders and worse information and we crossed paths."

"He said that there was a grenade near him. Not flung, exactly, more like it got dropped by a nervous German. And he stared at it, the German stared at it, and you acted." Sybil waited for John's nod and then continued. "According to him, you tackled him to the ground and covered his body with yours."

"All but his leg, which took the shrapnel." John closed his eyes, the memory repeating in a haze of noise and terror. "But all I could do was drag him back to safety and then leave him or I'd blow my cover."

"He's still alive because of you, Mr. Bates."

"I could've done more."

"Not much." Sybil tapped the clipboard. "I'll be getting this to Mrs. Bates as soon as I can."

"Thank you."

"You just rest now, Mr. Bates. Let your body heal itself as much as you can and then we'll heal the rest of you."

John watched her walk away, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I'm not sure if you can."

* * *

The crutch stuck in the door and John sighed, dropping his shoulders. He took a deep breath and pushed his hands down on the grips to swing his body through the space and clear the foot of the crutch. It landed, skidding for an inch where John's life flashed before his eyes, and caught to hold him in place in the kitchen. The space hemmed him in and John shuffled about trying to adjust and reach for what he needed.

"You could ask for help you stubborn ass." He turned, hopping backward as his mother entered the kitchen, pulling down the utensils and things he wanted. "It's not against the code to admit you're not entirely yourself yet."

"I've not been myself for at least the last few months." John hung his head, fingers worrying the grips of the crutches and leaning his weight there for a moment before pulling back to ease the ache on the chaffed and raw skin under his armpits.

"Your turn with that harpy wasn't exactly your best moment. And I've a word or two to say about your drinking but that's all going behind you so I've nothing more to be said here." She stepped to the side, extending her hand for him to leave the kitchen. "You'll have to be in the sitting room for it."

John maneuvered from the room, aiming for the sofa and easing himself onto it before propping his plastered leg on the ottoman. Mrs. Bates came into the room, taking her chair and adjusting herself to look at him. They sat in silence a moment but when John went to speak his mother held up a finger.

"If you'll give me a moment, it's not easy for me to say this." John bit his tongue, waiting for her. Mrs. Bates closed her eyes and took a deep breath before beginning. "I was wrong."

John's jaw dropped but his mother continued speaking. "I was wrong to try and steer you away from someone who… Someone who needs your heart as much as you need theirs. I don't blame myself for Vera, I think you made that mistake all on your own, but you wouldn't have wandered into the valley of shadow is not for me and I'm sorry."

John struggled to speak. "I… What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think you're in the position you are now, crippled and broken before me, because I had a hand in it." She sniffed and John worked himself toward her as carefully as he could. "Johnny you-"

"Mother," John took her hands, forcing her to look at him. "This is the product of my decisions. I chose Vera. For whatever reasons I chose her, they were my reasons and not your decisions. Further, this is… This is the product of an angry child and his cowardly friends."

"Your leg may never be the same Johnny."

"It'll be a cane then." John shrugged, "I could've died a hundred times over in the war and then again in that street. But I didn't and I won't bemoan a bit of damage to continue living."

They sat in silence until John finally spoke again, "It could've been a lot worse."

"I don't want to imagine worse."

"Then don't." John kissed her knuckles and then smiled, "Besides, I might look more dashing."

"Your face is a mix of purple and yellow John. Those were never your best colors."

"Then don't bother to look at my chest." John tried to laugh and then winced. "Never mind, please don't make me laugh."

"I won't." She ran her fingers over his hand. "Just promise me you won't… You won't fall back to where you were."

"I got more than the stuffing knocked out of me, Mother." John shifted back onto the sofa. "I got the sense knocked into me as well."

"Then I'll get something going for you before-"

"I can manage, Mother." John waved her off, "Go and mind the shop. It'll give Branson something to do now that you need a fetch-and-carry."

"He's not like you." Mrs. Bates stood up. "Katie-Anne won't go with him on the deliveries."

"Then what's she doing?"

"Hoping she can keep you company." Mrs. Bates walked toward the door, "She's being plaguing her mother to be here with you since you got back."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" John hurried to get up, ignoring the rubbing of his raw skin with the crutches.

"Because her mother insisted you were too injured."

"No." John hurried to the door, scowling at his mother's grin. "You can inform her that I'd love her company. It'll stop me getting bored in here."

"You've more than enough books."

"Words swim after too many hours." John nodded toward the corridor. "Please?"

"Alright then."

John paced around the flat as best he could while he waited. The crutches practically formed grooves on the sides of his torso as he moved but he pushed past the pain. He even tried to move without the crutches but the hopping motions were practically useless.

When the knock came at the door he opened it to see Katie-Anne tugging on her mother's hand and Anna biting her lip. Katie-Anne flung herself forward, catching herself with enough to grab for John's whole leg and clutching there. Both John and Anna froze a moment before they both moved. As they bent their heads knocked against one another and John bit his lip to stop himself crying out as the pains over his body fired into a frenzy.

"I'm so sorry you got hurt John." Katie-Anne squeezed his leg and John turned his attention to the girl attached to him, rubbing a hand over his forehead and blinking away tears of pain.

"It's… It's going to be alright." John put a hand out to Anna and then used it to hold the doorframe as his balance faltered for a moment. "Are you alright?"

"It's a mere bump to your multitude of bruises." Anna held her palm to her forehead, shaking it. "The ringing eventually stops I think."

"It does." John assured her and took the hand from his head to pat Katie-Anne's back. "And thank you for your worry."

"I've missed you." She tilted her head up to look at him. "When you were with that lady I-"

"Catherine Anne!" Anna hissed and Katie-Anne silenced as Anna hurried to explain. "She's been in the habit of speaking her mind."

"Too much time with my mother." John grabbed for his crutches and moved away from the door. "But I can't begin to describe how honored I am you're letting me spend some time with Katie-Anne. I've… I've driven myself a bit mad here puttering around alone for the last few days."

"We've heard." Anna gave a little smile before hurrying to crouch down in front of Katie-Anne to hand her a bag. "Remember, Mr. Bates is injured and he'll your help."

"Like in the shop?"

"Just like that." Anna pulled her close enough to kiss the girl's forehead before nodding at her. "I'll be back later."

"Okay." Katie-Anne took the bag and dashed toward the sitting room, leaving John and Anna in the doorway.

"Thank you. For this." John pointed at Katie-Anne and Anna shrugged.

"She's wanted to see you again. She thought…" Anna struggled to speak for a moment. "She thought the Evil Fairy stole you away."

John cringed, "I could see the comparison."

"Mr. Bates…" Anna put up a hand but dropped it. "I'm afraid I might've said something that might've changed your opinion about-"

"Ms. Smith," John stopped her, shaking his head with a smile. "There was nothing you said or did that had anything to do with that."

"And this?" Anna looked him up and down. "Was this about me?"

"This was about a disagreement over whiskey in a pub that got out of hand."

Anna narrowed her eyes, "I've a feeling it goes deeper than that."

"Perhaps but that's what Constable Carson believes happened and I won't change his mind in that regard." John shuffled sideways, Katie-Anne calling him from the sitting room. "I've got a feeling she'll be rather miffed if I don't go see what she's about."

"She will." Anna smiled, "Thank you, for letting her come."

"She's always welcome here Ms. Smith." John bit the inside of his cheek. "As are you, Ms. Smith."

"Anna." He frowned and she hurried to repeat herself as a blush of red tinged her cheeks. "It's 'Anna'."

"Then thank you, Anna." John caught her hand, kissing the back of it. "I've a feeling I'm going to have a magnificent afternoon."

"She will too." Anna pulled the door to shut it. "Don't let her wear you out."

"I won't." John stood still as the door shut, listening to Anna's feet on the boards before making his way to the sitting room.

Katie-Anne already had her activities spread over the floor, organized and ready for him as John eased himself to the sofa and then the floor to join her. She selected one of the books, crawling onto his good leg, and handing it to him. "Do you ready aloud?"

"In a few different voices." John opened the book. "I haven't read this one in some time."

"Mummy used to read it to me." Katie-Anne cuddled with him, nestling with her head on his chest and holding still as John opened the book in front of them. "She said your Mummy gave it to her."

"Probably." John opened to the first page. "Shall I start?"

"Yes please." Katie-Anne jabbed at the name on the page. "That's your name."

"That it is." John checked over the book. "I guess my mother gave it to your mother when she realized I outgrew it."

"You never outgrow books."

"That's fair." John chuckled, adjusting Katie-Anne. "Maybe it's more that I had other books I needed to read so she wanted someone else to read this one."

"Mummy said something like that." Katie-Anne grew quiet. "I think it's because it was your book."

"Why'd you say that?"

"I think my Mummy likes you and it hurt her when the Evil Fairy stole you away." John turned his head to meet Katie-Anne's earnest blue eyes. "Will she come back?"

"No." John shook his head, turning the page to the first one with the words of the story. "That spell's broken."

"Good." Katie-Anne waited, "You can read now."

John cleared his throat and started to read.

The rest of the afternoon they read, drew, colored with her collection of carefully hoarded pencils, and then went on an expedition to forage for food from the kitchen. Katie-Anne eventually drifted off to sleep and John made her comfortable on the sofa, gathering her things into her bag to have it ready when Anna returned for her. When Anna finally arrived, flustered and in a hurry, John held a finger in front of his lips to stop her.

"She's sleeping."

"She's asleep?" Anna craned her neck past him to see Katie-Anne's curls peeking just beyond her blanket. "Did you wear her out?"

"We had a lovely afternoon and evening." John cringed, "I hope I haven't upset a schedule or-"

"No, no." Anna checked the large clock. "I was delayed at the Crawleys and I rather took advantage of your hospitality."

"Not at all." John moved on his crutches and hissed.

"Are you alright?"

"The skin's just raw and I…" John shook his head. "It's alright."

"May I help?" Anna put up a hand when John tried to argue. "Please, it's the least I can do and I'll assume it'll be painful for you to manage the rotation of movement right now."

"You're not wrong." John nodded his head. "This way."

They moved toward his room and John turned on the lamp to light the room. Anna waited for him to take a seat on the neat bed and took the crutches away from him before helping him remove his vest and tie. "You manage these everyday?"

"There's no reason to not look your best." John grinned at her, tilting his chin up for her to undo the button and then managing the others himself. "I learned that in the Army."

"I would think injury is a good excuse."

"But then all I can make are excuses." John settled back as he finished his cuffs and let Anna remove his shirt without having to bend or move his arms too much. Her hands brushed his skin as she helped lift his undershirt and then gasped. "It looks worse than it is."

"And I think you're lying." Anna kneaded the undershirt in her grip. "You're… You must be in pain all the time."

"It's nothing I haven't suffered before." John pointed toward the dresser. "The cream is over there if you're still willing."

"Of course." Anna hurried over to it, leaving his shirts draped over the footboard of the bed to find the bottle. "How have you had worse than that?"

"I was in the SOE and we weren't exactly playing fair." John sat on the edge of the bed as Anna pulled his chair over to him and lifted an arm to apply the cream to the raw, red skin.

As she moved over his skin, Anna brushed one of his other injuries and John hissed. Her hand moved back in the hurry and she winced. "Sorry."

"It's… It just still stings." John waited a moment, "You can continue if you're still willing."

"You're in pain."

"It was just a surprise." John kept his arm up and Anna replaced her quivering fingers to his skin. "Thank you for your help."

"I've the nagging feeling you're in this state because of me."

"That's a lie."

"I think that's the lie." Anna met his eyes, carefully rubbing the cream into his into his skin. "And I'm here so it's the least I can do."

"This is far from the least."

"It's a figure of speech." Anna teased him, checking over the area before moving to his other side. "But, for me, it is the least I can do."

John caught her hand before she could start on the other side. "Don't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault."

"Why wouldn't it be? I've heard from enough people that this was the work of Mr. Green and you only met him because of me. Further, you wouldn't have been at that pub if you were with Ms. Sadler."

"She's got nothing to do with this."

Anna stopped again, her eyes not meeting his and seeming determinedly focused on his injury to stop herself meeting his eyes. "Doesn't she?"

"No." John caught her hands so she would look at him. "She's got nothing to do with this."

"You were happy with her, Mr. Bates."

"John." John shared the small smile with her. "Fair is fair."

"Alright." Anna put her hand back to the area, rubbing in the cream. "I saw how happy you were with her, John, and I've trouble not noticing how sad you've been since you two broke it off."

"It was for the best."

"Even then." Anna pulled away, snatching a rag from his drying rack to clean her hands and wipe over his skin. "You were happy with her."

John stopped her hands, not waiting for her gaze. "I didn't love her Anna. I never did. Not really."

"Then why?"

"Because she was there when I was low and I thought I wanted that. I wanted to try and find happiness somewhere when I couldn't find it where I wanted it. Because…" John swallowed, his eyes meeting Anna's and almost losing his nerves in that moment. "Because I know I can't find the happiness I need without you."

"No matter what that might mean?"

"No matter what that might mean."

"John…" Anna pulled back but did not lose her grip on his hands. "I'm going to England and it's not fair to ask you-"

"You're not asking. I'm offering. And I'd offer it until my life ends." John risked a breath, "If that's where you'll go then I'd go with you."

"And leave your mother's shop?"

"They don't need bookshops in England?"

"It's her legacy. It's your dream."

"And we can make new dreams."

"John," Anna put the cream on the table by his bed, the rag joining it before she could face him again. "I'm not the person you think I am."

"I'm not confused about who you are." John brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "I think you're the one who's confused."

"About?"

"Me." John leaned forward, his hand forming around her cheek. "I only want you and whatever else that might mean."

"It'll be a storm." Anna whispered, their lips so close the air ran over his skin.

"Then I'll let it break over me."

Their lips met and John wanted for nothing else in the world.


	9. Starlight, Star Bright

Her fingers, delicate and careful, cupped his cheeks and she shifted to get closer to him when he tilted his head to the side so they could deepen their kiss. John moved his other hand to the back of her neck, holding there to ground himself when her tongue ran over his lips. He opened in a gasp and she let herself taste over him before inviting him to do the same.

For all the kisses John exchanged with anyone in his life, the moment he kissed Anna he forgot there had ever been any others. Each touch of her lips against his was like drips of happiness feeding the cold and dark parts of his heart so the places he though were lost forever found joy. When she continued delving into the recesses of his mouth, leading the kiss so all John could do was joyful follow her, John sighed and leaned back.

The motion upset their equilibrium and Anna's hands came to his chest. They stopped, breaking their kiss to breathe heavily and John looked into her eyes in the bluish-half light of his room. He trailed his fingers over her cheek, slipping over a strand of hair that he then brushed behind her ear, and waited. Her eyes met his and she pushed him back to lay flat on his bed.

John adjusted himself, hands pushing into his duvet as Anna carefully moved over him. She kept her weight to her knees as her thighs brushed his exposed sides. The bit of skin between her skirt and her hosiery sent a shiver though John and Anna paused, her loose hair running over his skin. He put a hand to her face, calming the moment of worry that flashed in her eyes.

"Please don't let me hurt you." Her whisper was more of an escaped thought and John took a moment to process if only meant their physical position.

"You could never." He ran his thumb along her cheekbone and lifted himself, ignoring a complaint from his bruised body, to bring their lips together again.

It worked better than any words he could ever say to soothe her. Her hands framed his face again and she slanted her mouth over his to dive deeply into his mouth. John moaned into is, sliding his hand to the back of her neck to bring her back with him as he laid back on the beg.

Despite the immobility of his leg, the spurts of soreness, and the little shrieks from muscles contorted contrary to their desired healing position, John could imagine nothing better. Her weight stayed at his waist, resting easily between him and her knees, and she brought him to incoherence with just the movements of her mouth on his. With the little bit of thought John could push through his frying brain he wondered what it might be like for them to explore something other than their mouths.

The hand he had at the back of her neck ventured up, pulling her hair loose so it framed her face and ran over his skin to tickle and spark his nerves to feel more than the rumbling vestiges of pain. She tilted her head, lifting a hand from her controlling position on his face, to move her hair over one shoulder and John seized the opportunity to lay kisses over her jaw and neck. If it were possible, Anna purred at the attention and John continued to her ear.

There he paused, waiting for their breathing to synchronize before he whispered. "I want you Anna."

She pulled back, holding him steady to look in his eyes. "Are you sure? With your injuries I don't-"

"I'm very sure." He waited, the hint of fear in her expression giving him pause. "But only if you're sure as well."

With a deep breath, like one someone might take before they jumped from a cliff, Anna nodded. John still waited, holding himself at the edge until her lips met his again. When her fingers dug into the skin of his neck and scalp he took it as his cue to continue.

John kept a hand at the back of her neck, massaging to match the gentle scratch of her nails against his scalp. With each touch he laid on her, she relaxed more until her weight laid fully on his chest and John breathed in time with her so his bare chest pressed against the material of her blouse. The motions tempted him with phantom sensations of her breasts rubbing against him and he could not wait any longer.

His fingers trailed up the buttons, flicking them open until her blouse spread over his chest to run smoothly over his skin with each new attack she made on his mouth. Attacks that were more the death of a thousand pleasurable cuts. When she went for breath, John snuck his head under her chin to run his lips toward her now exposed chest and ran closer and closer to where lace and fabric held her breasts from his gaze and attentions.

Her breath caught when he laid kisses there and her fingers dug into his hair to hold him closer and worked her blouse from her shoulders to leave her arms bare. John took a moment to run his fingers along her skin, exulting in the smoothness and the shivers as the hair on her arms stood on end. Their eyes met and John leaned forward enough to kiss her shoulder and then down to her hand before repeating the process in reverse on the other side. Anna shuddered against him, her weight settling on him once again and John let out a deep-bellied sigh.

With a bit of contortionist work, he took the trail to her straps, working his tongue under them to tickle the skin until Anna shifted on him. Her lips tried to match his teases by tracing his jaw and memorizing his neck with her kisses but when John's fingers trailed to the clasps at her back she paused her efforts. For a moment John feared he overstepped his bounds but Anna only sat up, keeping her weight back on her knees and resting just above where he already stood at attention, and reached behind her to unlatch the clasps.

When they separated and Anna allowed the material to fall away John could not help the way his jaw dropped. For a moment all he could do was stare. Then, noting the hesitation in Anna's expression, he exerted the herculean effort to sit up and immediately place his lips on her breasts. The dig of her nails at the back of his head kept him focused as he lavished attention with kisses, licks, and sucks that had Anna gyrating her hips against him in an attempt to get closer to him. His free hand moved to her ass, trying to find a place to hold on the fabric of her skirt so he could bring her closer to him.

If Heaven had been the kisses they shared, the sensation of putting his mouth to work at her breasts to bring Anna pleasure was a higher level. She moaned and keened with each brush of his tongue against her and John only sought to bring those noises out of her again. The catch at the back of her throat was especially tantalizing and John suckled and nipped until he heard it again. Then he repeated the actions on her left breasts to leave Anna gasping for air.

John's one hand occupied itself at her ass, holding her steady to counter the motions that forced her breasts closer to his mouth, while the other stroked up her stocking-ed leg to run over the skin exposed as her skirt caught between them and rucked higher and higher toward her waist. Each motion between them allowed his hand more access to her skin and John marveled at the softness of her everywhere. Her arms, her legs, and her breasts all held the same silky texture that only made him crave it more.

When his fingers brushed her hip under her skirt, Anna's breath hitched. John paused, her nipple falling from her mouth as he met her eyes again. She shifted, moving off of him, and John worried his over eager attitude had ruined everything. Instead he now pressed painfully against the loose trouser bottoms when Anna unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor with her knickers. Bending over to roll her stockings off her legs gave John an unparalleled view of her ass and he bit his own lip trying to contain the groan that the rush of sordid ideas brought about.

She met his eyes again and went to the foot of the bed. With a few tugs she removed the loose trousers, letting them fall to the ground with no more thought than her treatment of his pants. Soon they were exposed to one another, except the plaster covering his right leg, and Anna stopped. Her fingers trailed over the white material and a frown crossed her face. John leaned forward, catching her fingers with his and he tugged her back toward him.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." She let her fingers dot over his cheeks, never staying in one spot for long, as she studied him. "It's serious."

"And it's not your fault." He squeezed her hand. "If you don't want this then-"

She silenced him with a kiss and took her former position, holding herself over him with her knees nudging at his sides. The break of the kiss left John hazy and all he could comprehend were her eyes. "I want this. I've wanted it for longer than I care to admit."

"I'll admit it." John let out a little laugh, fingers tangling in her hair and pulling as gently as possible to separate the strands. "I've wanted it since I set eyes on you."

"Me too." Anna ran a hand in his hair, "I just didn't realize it then."

Their lips met again and it took no time at all to return to their earlier fervor. John wasted no time in stroking his fingers along the insides of her exposed thighs, groaning into her mouth with each touch that guided him closer and closer to where her fancied he caught a glimpse of a glisten on her skin. A glisten he confirmed when a finger brushed through her folds.

Anna broke the kiss, gasping out her whimper in the skin of his neck she then teethed in earnest with each successive stroke. Her fingers dug into his hair and side while she bit at his shoulder when he entered her with one finger and stroked around her with his others. John focused only on the wet suck of her walls around him before adding another finger and bringing his thumb to add pressure to her nerves. Each motion wound her tighter and tighter until she finally broke with a sob that raked blood from his skin.

John waited for her to calm, each heave of her chest to bring air into her lungs rubbing her against him until John's jaw tightened so hard he feared it might crack under the strain of keeping himself on the edge. The tension radiated through his body and when Anna lifted herself from where she slumped over him, she frowned. It took her less than a moment to pull his fingers clear of her walls, sighing as she did so, and moved back to wrap those fingers around him.

With her guidance, a motion John was sure he only imagined, a slight ease came to the ache in his erection. But his eyes rolled back into his head when Anna moved his hand out of the way to sink down on him. Each rise and fall sent him deeper and deeper inside the most scorching embrace he ever experienced.

He flailed his hands out to hold onto the duvet, trying to find some way to ground himself to reality, but Anna took his wrists and placed his hands at her hips. Her hand came down on his chest, conscious of his injuries as she used the leverage to rock herself against him. John dug bruises into the skin of her hips with each gyration until he could not hold back his own sounds any longer.

Anna shifted, wrapping him tighter and sending him deeper until their skin met, and paused. John cracked his eyes open and noted how she bit her lip and let her head fall back, exposing her neck to him. He wanted to reach up and lay kisses there, to wrap his hand in her hair and drive himself as deeply inside her as he could, to bring his legs up and give her the leverage and depth she needed to bring her over the beautiful edge again but his body screamed in protest against even the thoughts of those actions. All he could do was adjust his hold to grip at the flesh of her ass and buck with his hips. The motion gave him none of the leverage he wanted but his fingers at her clit accomplished what a change in position could not.

Their eyes met, the subdued snap of skin setting the undercurrent of their motions, and John let his fingers dance over her skin. She whimpered, twisting to rub herself shamelessly against his hand, and John tried to hitch himself inside her to ease the fizzing ache at the base of his spine. But it was Anna, moving back and letting her longer thrusts turn to swift drives, that finally guided him over the edge.

He came in a dazzle of colors spotting the backs of his eyelids, trying to keep his noise down for the little girl in the next room. His fingers fluttered and slipped on Anna's glistening skin as he tried to help her finish as well. But she managed it, somehow keeping herself on the edge until the last of John's stuttering thrusts, slumping back to his chest.

They lay like that, Anna's body covering his chest as they tried to breathe evenly, until she finally lifted herself from him. John's fingers intertwined with hers and kissed over her knuckles, keeping her eyes locked with his. She bent her head to kiss him, their tongues only teasing a moment before she broke away.

Anna dismounted, leaving John hiding the hiss of sensitivity and the ebb of adrenaline leaving his body aching. He breathed deeply, trying to focus past the pain to let his body relax into the sated sensation. But he hissed again as Anna took the rag to his skin, cleaning over him before moving to the side.

"I do hope I haven't left you completely unable to move."

"I have no desire to move." He smiled at her, fingers tangling with hers. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For allowing me a moment to see in your soul." John bit his tongue, cursing himself when Anna pulled away.

"I didn't…"

"No I'm sorry I-"

"John," Her use of his first name stopped him and John could only stare at her as she crossed her arms in front of her, body twisting as the cooling allowed both to realize their lack of modesty. "You can't say things like that."

"Like what?" He tried to shift but she put her hand to his shoulder, coming to the side of the bed to keep him there. "Like the truth?"

"Like…" She took a breath, "Like I'm whole."

"Aren't you?"

"No," She shook her head and John urged her to the edge of the bed, reaching for his shirt so she could dry her eyes as tears tracked trails down her cheeks. Anna snorted a laugh as she used the fabric. "I'm broken and damaged and all those things they say about me just not how they say them."

"Then," John scooted himself up so his back was against the headboard and while his body complained for a moment it settled as he did. "All the things they say about me are true too."

"That's not-"

"Fair?" John pulled her closer and Anna shifted so they faced one another. As he looked over her, bared from clothes but not her fears, he reached out a hand to play with the strands of her hair dangling over her shoulder. "No, it's not but it's how it is. I may not've been here but you are I are a lot more alike than you'll allow yourself to believe."

"Alike?"

"We're both broken. You by that horrible man who I hope died the most gruesomely painful death possible and me because of the things I did in the war." John dropped his gaze, focusing on where her hands moved over one another. "I've seen and done things that would frighten you off if you knew."

"It wouldn't matter what I found out about you." Anna insisted, covering his hands with hers and John managed a small smile at her.

"Then you understand how I feel about you." He shifted slightly, "Nothing I find out about you changes how I feel about it. It never will."

"You'll have to fight anyone and everyone." Anna shook her head. "All those women who're convinced you're their key to happiness and all those other people who'll look at you funny because you chose me instead."

"I never want to fight anyone ever again so they can all sod off." John stopped himself, biting at the end of his loud statement. "I'm sorry… It's just… I don't want to be who I was in the war. Not again. I want that man dead and buried in all the fields and offices and trenches and alleyways where he came out. I want him there, forever, and never back here."

His fist thumped his chest and Anna caught it, pulling his hand back to her chest. She spread his fingers over her heart and held him there, her fingers caressing over his. "You don't need to fight anymore. I don't want you to."

"Then you'll not make me fight for you?"

Anna gave a little laugh, sighing as John eased his fingers over her skin. "No."

"Because I did." His other hand tugged her forward as he slid back on the bed to lay down. "And no matter what I've said or what you'll say, I'd do it all over again for the chance to have you."

"Then know you don't have to fight anymore." Anna bent her head over him, hair brushing his skin to send shivers over his reawakening muscles. "I'm yours."

"And I'm yours." John helped lift her back to his chest, kissing softly and separating quickly as they giggled and smiled at one another. "I think I always was."

"From the first moment your mother read one of your letters as a way to calm me down I was yours." Anna swept her fingers over his face and then up toward his hair. "You wrote that beautiful piece of poetry."

"Which one?"

Anna closed her eyes:

 _When wind blows through the grass, and lights dance on the air, that's when fairies come._

 _They dance and sing and laugh and play for they hold the spirit of the earth in their grasp._

 _What is man that he forgot, the simple joys of life and no longer dances in the sun?_

 _What is woman that she toils and spins, and sweats and weeps until her final gasps?_

 _For man is more than meat and the day is more than labor._

 _We are creatures for joy and being and life is meant to savor._

John let his fingers dance up the backs of her legs, scooting her almost imperceptibly up his chest. "You memorized it?"

"Of course, it's what stopped me leaving your mother's house that night." Anna caught herself on the headboard. "It's what kept me here."

"Then allow me the chance to give you another reason to stay." John slipped her legs to either side of his head and used his hands at her hips to tug her down to his waiting mouth.

If not for her hand, buried between her teeth, the shriek Anna almost let loose would have told the entire street what he did. One of her hands gripped the headboard hard enough to leave her arm shaking… Or perhaps it was his tongue driving into her to accompany the sucking motions that let him taste every inch of her. Her other hand dived down to hold at his hair and drive him toward her while her hips twisted and rolled to take everything his could offer. And John had everything to give.

His fingers spread her wide, touched over her, and delved deep when he turned his attentions to nipping around her clit. Anna abandoned her hold on his hair to bite into her hand again and John wished he could bid her let the world hear her, let him hear her cries of sobs but he knew the neighbors would not like it. Hell, for the tiny part of his brain that comprehended fully despite the blood in his body running a never-ending course south, his mother could already be home and Katie-Anne was just asleep on the sofa. They had no time for the noises he wanted to tear from her in unrestrained passion.

Maybe another time.

That thought, over all the wiser decisions he could make, drove John forward. He sucked her clit into his mouth, tonguing over it while adding another finger to crook and reach inside her. And when he found the spot that sent her thighs quivering around his head and her body shuddering to the noise of her keening cries she strangled in her throat, John adored it with all the affection in his fingers. She broke then, almost collapsing onto him as he licked and sucked and lovingly laved at her until her finished.

His view of her was unobstructed from his vantage point and he loved the rise and fall of her chest as she sought to breathe, the tremble in her arms and abdomen as her body adjusted to the reality of pleasure, and the wrecked expression on her face as she bent her head. They slipped and slid over one another until she could ravage his mouth. When she groaned at the taste, John bucked up to press his ready arousal into her stomach.

Anna broke the kiss, a wicked leer taking over her face as she sat up out of reach and sank down onto him again. Unlike earlier, when they both acted for tentative pleasure, this time they left the shackles behind. John used the adrenaline running through his body to surge up and hold her close to him. His legs still offered him no leverage but his hands on her ass and then between them urged Anna onward and held her steady for his thrusts.

For her part, Anna brought her legs around, linking her ankles behind his back to make them one skin. Her arms encircled his shoulders and she held him close while pressing tempting kisses to him she never allowed him to reciprocate. But John's retaliation was to suck at her breasts. He let no bit of skin go untouched and Anna only ground down harder on him and his hand trying to find her pleasure again.

The second time she climaxed, head thrown back to leave her neck open to his kisses, John followed not far behind. His final jerky motions sent him back to the bed with a rather obvious creak. They froze, waiting for a response, and then giggled together at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"I feel like a teenager again." John whispered to her, his hands massaging over her back and occasionally running through his hair.

She curled against him, the deep breaths of her chest pressing them together. "I never worried about that as a young girl.

"Don't tell me you didn't have all the local boys after you."

"If I did I never gave them the time of day." Anna tapped her finger against his chin and then kissed the underside. "They weren't the kind of people you minded."

"I'd have moved Heaven and earth to get you to mind me."

"You already did." She took another deep breath before pushing off him. "And now I have to move Heaven and earth before your mother gets back or Katie-Anne wakes up and wonders where I got off to."

"You could stay." John offered, sitting up and taking the trousers Anna offered. "I'd make you breakfast in the morning and I'd ask Katie-Anne's permission to court you."

"And I'd like that." Anna brushed his hair back, kissing him before buttoning her blouse and zipping her skirt as she bunched her stockings in her hand.

"But just not this time?" John put his arms through his shirt and took his crutches from Anna with a grateful nod.

"Not this time." Anna opened the door and they worked into the hallway.

Katie-Anne still slept on the sofa and Anna maneuvered carefully to lift her so the girl's head barely had a moment between lying on the sofa and resting on her mother's shoulder. She murmured something but Anna hummed quietly to her, easing her to rest with a steady hand rubbing at her back. John worked his way to the front door, opening it in time for his mother to enter. They all blinked at one another in surprise before Anna nodded at them and slipped out to take the stairs up to her flat.

John closed the door and Mrs. Bates put her bag on the table, eyes on the carriage clock on the mantle before examining John. "I've a feeling there were things going on in this house that I wouldn't have approved of."

"A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"And if it was more than kissing?"

John only shrugged and used his crutches to get himself toward the bathroom.


	10. Like a Diamond in the Sky

John winced as Doctor Clarkson pulled the plaster off. "That's not my leg."

"Not yet but it will be once you start walking on it." Doctor Clarkson pointed to the crutches. "You'll use those for now and in about a week I'd suggest you start finding yourself a nice cane."

"For how long?"

Doctor Clarkson shrugged, "It's hard to say. The damage to your knee is significant and you're not going to ever have full use of it, that I can say with surety. But you'll have movement and function and you'll not be too hampered by it if you take this time to really heal and strengthen yourself."

"That I can do." John reached for his crutches and, with Doctor Clarkson's help, got off the table to put a bit of weight on his leg. It almost crumpled beneath him and if not for the crutch, and the other man, he would have fallen. They both chuckled and helped John get the crutch under his arm. "Just not yet."

"Be patient and you'll be fine." Doctor Clarkson took a wary step back, "Give yourself time to get back to what you used to be because no matter how strong we are, none of us can overcome everything all at once."

"That's good advice." John worked the crutches better, moving himself across the floor to the door Doctor Clarkson opened for him. "When would be the optimal time to expect to see improvement?"

"That's entirely up to you but given it only took you three months to get to this point I'd say you're doing far better than most." Doctor Clarkson shrugged, keeping pace with John's three-legged gimp to the door. "My guess is that you're service made you stronger than the average man."

"Just strong enough I think." John shrugged, "I suffered a few bad injuries in the war so I'm used to pain."

"None of those injuries are things I could see in a medical file I'm guessing."

John winked at him, "Not unless you've got about two stars on your lapels doctor."

"Let us all be grateful I don't have any stars on my lapels anymore." Doctor Clarkson shuddered, "Life in war is the worst kind of situation. There's no peace when you're fighting for survival."

"There is truth to that." John moved the crutch under his armpit and extended his hand. "Thank you Doctor Clarkson. I wouldn't be this far along if not for you."

"It's mostly been your Mr. Bates but I'll take the compliment all the same."

John worked his way down the stairs, placing the crutches with care and catching himself on each step with both legs. The lances of pain from his healing, atrophied limb forced his jaw to clench and teeth to grit but he continued until the cobbles under his feet gave a comforting clack. Resetting the crutches, he went to walk up the street but a horn honked at him and John spin almost too fast to keep on his feet.

"Where do you think you're going you numpty?" John's face broke into a grin as Branson ran to his side and jerked his thumb back toward the truck. "I've got it all ready to drop you back at your door."

"Still handling my mother's deliveries?"

"You're useless to drive until you can hold your weight on that leg so, yes." Branson opened John's door and helped him manage the crutches to get inside. "Besides, she warned me you'd be dumb enough to try and gimp your way home."

"Independence isn't a bad thing."

"Neither is knowing when you should ask for help." Branson glanced at John's leg as he closed the door and shuddered. "Although, you probably should've managed yourself home with that disgusting thing attached to your leg."

"Very funny." John got himself into place as Branson climbed into the cab to start the truck.

"No, I'm serious, did Doctor Clarkson prove himself to be a kind of Doctor Frankenstein and sewn someone else's leg onto yours?"

"It's what happens when the leg spends too much time in the cast." John stretched himself out in the tight cab. "And it was in that cast for three months."

"How long until you walk like you used to?"

"Depends on how long until I can get my leg to even hold my weight." John sighed, fingers traipsing over his scarred and knobbled knee. "I don't think I'll ever walk without a limp again."

"Green did a number on you, bloody coward." Branson let out his own form of a disapproving snort. "I guess that's what you get when you're the worst of mankind."

"It can't speak well for his character when I say that the only people I thought were worse than him were the ones I tried to riddle with bullets." John leaned back in his seat. "What about you?"

"Other than filling in for you?"

"That part I see when I'm handling accounts or checking the orders." John flashed Branson a grin. "What about you and Ms. Sybil?"

"She's still keeping busy at hospital but," Branson turned a corner and used it to lean toward John. "If you could arrange it with Doctor Clarkson, she could handle your home visits and I could just happen to find myself there when she's helping see to your recovery."

"That's devious and exactly what I would expect from you." John shrugged, "Sybil and I've got a report so I could see her being willing to do that."

"Good." Branson let a grin take over his face as if he were the cat who got the cream. "It'll be nice to see her 'round and about during the daylight hours… Just doing normal things you know."

"If you want to see her in her natural habitats, why not just walk out with her like a normal man? There are courting rituals that would allow you to see one another in public."

"I'm sure you've not forgotten that her father still have a service pistol and he's not a bad shot."

John sighed, "At some point you'll have to decide if it's worth more to you to be with Sybil Crawley or if your life, lived forever in fear of Robert Crawley's gun, will allow you to watch Sybil run off into the hands of someone else."

Branson blanched. "You think she'd go off with someone else?"

"Why not?"

"Because I love her and I told her so."

"Words only do so much, Tom." John grabbed at his crutches as they pulled into the alley behind the shop. "At some point you've got to walk the mile you already talked for yourself. The only question you've got to ask yourself is if it's worth it to you to walk that mile."

Branson did not answer, leaving his seat in the still rumbling truck to help John out of the cab. The moment John's crutches knocked on the cobbles he bent into the weight that flew into his good leg. Only Branson's hand on his shoulder kept him upright as John turned down to see the shining smile of Katie-Anne staring up at him.

"And what've you been up to?" John bent, working himself to balance on his one good leg and nodding toward his shoulder for Katie-Anne to wrap her arms around his neck as he stood again. Her little legs wrapped about him as much as she could while her fingers gripped tightly at his collar to keep herself aloft as John set his crutches to enter the shop. "Helping my Mum?"

"Yes." She hissed the end of the word, burying her head at his neck so her blonde curls brushed and bounced against his face.

"Good for you." John slipped sideways through the door, calling back to Branson as he did so. "Thank you Tom."

"Just keep to your promise about that home care and we'll be fine." Branson waved and slid across the cab seat to drive away.

"What promise about home care?" John turned to see Anna approaching, her folio tucked under one arm while the other stuffed something into her handbag. "Katie-Anne!"

"She's fine." John soothed, bending enough to have Katie-Anne stand on a chair seat so he could right himself before Anna. "See? No harm done."

"I'm worried more about increasing harm done." Anna reached out a hand but withdrew it, noting Katie-Anne studying them. "We wouldn't want you injured forever now would we, Mr. Bates?"

"I guess that depends on what you say about the plan for my homecare." John jerked his head back toward the door. "Mr. Branson has implored that I incite Nurse Crawley to handle my homecare visits."

"So he can see her?" Anna's lip came up in a disapproving grimace. "I don't see Mr. Crawley taking a kind view of that."

"Perhaps not but they need to make that decision for themselves and hang the consequences that come."

"I do hope you're not giving that kind of advice to my child."

"Never." John winked at Katie-Anne, who crawled off the chair with a giggle and dashed into the shop. "Although I did want to inquire about the other night."

"What about it, in particular, intrigued you?"

"The part where you said you'd like the chance for me to make you breakfast if you decided to spend a night with me."

Anna's cheeks flushed and she coughed to cover it. "I… I think that kind of request should come after you've gained my daughter's official permission to court me."

"I could ask her right now."

"No," Anna put a hand on John's arm as he leaned forward to call to Katie-Anne. "Ask her after I've left. That way it's between the two of you and she doesn't feel pressure to say what she believes I want her to say."

"She's a clever child so she might say that anyway."

"She is clever and that's why I want her to say whatever it is she wants to say without me present. And I-"

The door to the shop opened and both stopped at the signal of the tinkling bell. But both eased at the familiar ring of the voice that then entered the back room with Katie-Anne supported on her hip. Mary Crawley froze, her eyes widening slightly when she saw Anna and John standing next to one another.

"I didn't expect you both here." Mary put Katie-Anne back down and clutched toward her handbag. "What a surprise."

"Not really." Anna answered before John could, frowning a bit at Mary's reaction and then following her eyes to John. "Did you have business with Mr. Bates, Mary?"

"A bit of it." Mary let her teeth slide over one another. "It won't take a minute and then I could take you to Edith. She's almost finished finalizing the contracts and she wants you to look over the last of the details before she asks for your signature."

"And have they worked out how I'll get Katie-Anne to come with me?" Anna's hand ruffled through Katie-Anne's curls and stroked almost unconsciously. "Because Edith knows I won't go without her."

"Edith's…" Mary turned to John, her silent plea leading John to clear his throat and draw Anna's attention back to him.

"I believe Mrs. Crawley's here to tell us exactly what is left to solve that problem."

"What?" Anna turned back and forth between Mary and John before patting Katie-Anne's head. "Darling, why don't you go and find Mrs. Bates. See if she's got any books she needs you to file for her."

"Yes Mummy." Katie-Anne darted off and Anna nodded toward the stairs.

"This conversation needs to take place somewhere else."

"Agreed." Mary shot John another look, one of a trapped prisoner searching for a friend in an inescapable position.

John followed them up the two flights of stairs, his leg whining with each moment of weight it bore, and eventually worked into Anna's sitting room. Mary already perched on the edge of the sofa and only stood to help John sit next to her as if they were children about to face the headmaster. And the pose Anna took on her chair, folding her hands over the folio on her lap, set the tone of the interrogation.

"I want you both to explain to me what exactly is going on between the two of you that feels frighteningly like a cabal."

"It's not a cabal." John hurried to say but Anna silenced him with a look before turning to Mary.

"I do hope you've got an explanation for me."

"I've several I could give you but we've not got the time." Mary sat straighter, every bit the unflappably staunch defender to Anna's borderline implacable aggressor. "Edith needed my help to make sure your travel papers would be in order and I consulted with a friend who informed me there'd be a few… possible snags."

"Which friend?"

"Charles Blake, from the Home Office."

"And he told you there'd be problems?"

Mary nodded. "He transferred from the War Office and he confirmed that Grün is dead but that his status as Katie-Anne's father could lead the British government, still very anti-German in its positions and policies, to deny her entry based on her parentage."

"Edith's editor was supposed to find a way through that."

"Yes, he was, and while I will attempt to give every credit due Mr. Gary-"

"Gregson."

"Whatever," Mary waved a hand. "I'll give him all due credit but I refuse to accept his answer was that you leave Katie-Anne in the care of another until such time as policy slackens and mercy returns to the government."

Anna blinked, "Those were his words?"

"No, those were my words that appropriate summarize the myriad of maze-like statements he made in legal jargon that were all a cover for the fact he has no idea how to accomplish that goal and zero interest in doing so." Mary set her hands on her knees. "Edith implored me for help, knowing this book is important and that you are the key to its success, and I agreed so I could get her to London as quickly as possible."

"That explains your involvement." Anna pointed to John, her eyes still on Mary. "What does Mr. Bates have to do with this?"

"Beyond you being very much in love with him?" The flush to Anna's cheeks now matched the deep crimson of rage instead of the light, pink blush of attraction.

"Watch what you say Mary."

"Then try to apply that sentiment to the knowledge that I informed Mr. Bates of the difficulties Katie-Anne would face in gaining full British Citizenship without his help."

"Help?" Anna turned to John, "Did you know someone who owed you a favor in the department of forgeries?"

"No." John ground his teeth, fingers clutching at the material of his trousers before pushing over them to try and dry his sweating palms. "She needed someone to be Katie-Anne's father who was a full British citizen."

"You're half-Irish."

"It's enough." Mary cut in. "The point, Anna, is that with the new documents I brought for John to sign Katie-Anne will be a British Citizen and therefore allowed to go to London. There won't be any problems if her father is a man they can verify."

"Katie-Anne doesn't look anything like him."

"She looks like you and she's your daughter." Mary shrugged, "The worst you'll have to confront is the idea that she's the illegitimate daughter of another Briton instead of the legitimate daughter of a German officer. Or, we could manage to forge a marriage certificate and then a divorce so she's the child of a divorce. Either way it's-"

"Did you agree to this?" Anna rounded on John and he could only nod. "Without asking my permission or what I thought?"

"It was what I could do to help you." John gazed at the floor, his fingers lacing.

"When did you decide this?"

"Before Green and his gang-"

Anna stood up so fast she almost knocked her heavy chair backward and her folio hit the floor with a slap. The clench of her quivering fists and the rise of red over her neck had both Mary and John swallowing while sliding back on the sofa. "You've known this for three months?"

"In fairness," Mary put a hand out, as if that might protect John. "I told him three months ago. I didn't know if we'd need his help but I wanted to cover all the possible outcomes in case-"

"In case you couldn't get rid of your sister." Anna almost spat at Mary but the other woman stood up just as quickly.

"Now hold on just a minute. I won't have my honor impugned." Mary took a breath. "I know that I've made no secret of how my sister and I don't sport the kind of relationship where we'll weep at the loss of the other. I know that I can be selfish and I like getting my own way, but Mr. Bates and I agreed to this plan for you."

"Without my consent?"

"Because of your consent." Mary threw an arm behind her, to point to John and almost taking his eye out with her trembling finger. "He was willing to do it when he thought you were leaving forever. Despite his own feelings toward you, despite his desires that you'd stay, he was willing to help you fulfill your dreams and here you are throwing that in his face."

"It wasn't his decision."

"It was every bit his decision." Mary huffed, grabbing her handbag. "He wanted the best for you, like I do, and saw the benefit of you finding a new life in London if that was what you wanted."

"You've overstepped Mary."

"I stepped as far as a friend is supposed to." Mary gathered herself, heading for the door. "And what you are, right now, is ungrateful for the lengths those who care about you will go to so you can be happy. Think on that as you decide to wallow in your anger."

Mary dug something from her handbag and slapped the stack of papers on the table as she opened the door. "The papers that make Mr. Bates Katie-Anne's father so she's British… if you even want that."

The knock of the door in the jamb startled John and he grimaced at the shudder through his leg. He adjusted his crutches and went to stand until Anna turned toward him. The thunder in her expression softened and John let his crutches lay back against the sofa.

"You were going to sign those papers and watch me leave, weren't you?"

"Mary said you were leaving no later than Liberation Day." John shrugged, "It's less than a month away and I wasn't going to stand in the way of your hopes for a better life."

"But after everything you said the other night…"

"It's all still as true now as it was then and as it was when I told Mary I'd help her." John sighed, shaking his head. "I agreed to it because I was certain it was as close to you as I'd ever get, that it was the only thing you'd ever let me do for you."

"But you'd still sign it, right now?"

"Of course I would." John raised a hand but it just dropped to his lap as he realized he had no way to articulate or gesticulate his meaning. "I'd do whatever I had to so you'd be happy Anna."

"Even if it meant I'd leave you and never return?"

"You could go to the moon and there'd still never be a day you weren't in my thoughts or I wouldn't wish the absolutely best for you and that little girl." John pointed to the papers. "And I'll sign those papers as soon as I get close to them and get a pen in my hand."

"What if you didn't have a pen?" Anna inched toward him but John only shrugged and gave a little laugh.

"Then I'd have to open a vein and write it in blood." John met her eyes, forcing himself not to blink at how close Anna suddenly was. "I'll do whatever it takes for you to be happy Anna. That'll never change."

Her lips were on his in an instant. John knocked his crutches with his elbow as he brought his hands to cup her jaw and hold her close to him. When her tongued edged his lip, John groaned and opened his mouth so Anna could enter and her fingers speared his hair as she straddled his legs.

They shifted and John hissed, the shot of pain echoing up his leg like a strike of lightning. Anna pulled back, shuffling off him fast enough to almost put her on the other side of the room as John maneuvered on the sofa. Her hand covered her mouth and John hurried to raise a hand.

"It's fine. Just a stab of pain, nothing major."

"You're injured and I'm-"

"Anna." John worked himself to his feet, hop-sliding over the floor to reach her at the wall. "It's nothing and… I wouldn't…"

John stopped himself, frowning as all the right words escaped him. "I'm mucking this up. I mucked it up the moment I agreed to sign those papers without your agreement but I didn't know what else to do and I-"

Anna put her hand over his mouth, sliding her finger over his lips until only one remained. "I'll take that as your apology and that's enough."

She slipped under his arm, retrieving his crutches to place them under his hands, and nodded for him to follow her. John worked across the floor, following the plan that echoed his flat just a floor below, and walked into Anna's room behind her. As he did she put her hands aside his face again and pulled him closer to kiss her.

Their lips met, tongues tangled, and John recognized the slightly frenzied way she snapped at his clothes to remove them. He followed her lead, guided by her desires as much if not more than his own. Between the crutches and his delicate balance, Anna helped John to the bed and finished stripping the both of them as he just sat and watched.

In daylight it was a completely different experience. No more shrouded in moonlight and shadows, Anna practically glowed as each piece of her skin revealed drew him closer to him. Or her closer to him as he realized his fingers had found their way to her hips and drew her over the floor until she stood before him. Their eyes met and John returned the gentle trace of her fingers over his face and across his jaw with kisses to her abdomen.

Anna's fingers speared into John's hair as she gasped out his name.

John took that as guidance and dived in with gusto. Keeping his motions gentle, his touches adoring, his kisses affectionate, and every action nothing less than the very definition of worshipful, He traced over her abdomen and breasts. Sucking at her left patches of red almost like breadcrumbs of his travels but it only mattered that her fingers carded through his hair and then sank deep into his scalp when he suckled at her breasts to pull her nipples alternatingly into his mouth.

Her little whimpers and moans guided his lower, one hand continuing to knead and caress her breasts while the other smoothed over her back to her ass. The matching motions left Anna shaking on her legs but her found her support in scoring trails of his shoulders when his tongue teased her clit. He wrapped over it, sucked at her, and then dug through her folds with his mouth to take in the taste of her. Every sound she made only spurred him faster and high until Anna crashed around him.

They managed to slide back onto the bed, John positioning himself to take her weight but Anna pushed from his chest. Even with her arms bearing the aftershocks of her climax, she managed to put herself far enough back to straddle John's good leg. He managed a furrowed brow for only a moment before her mouth closed around him.

John almost jackknifed off the bed when her tongue ran the length of him from base to tip before reversing the motion on the other side. She sucked and caressed with tongue and teeth before dotting kisses around his hips and abdomen when he swelled larger. Where John had sent her over the edge, Anna kept him dancing on it. Each of her movements was carefully choreographed to make his body vibrate and quiver with anticipation and rising arousal until he could swear that another touch and he would simply burn up in a sudden blaze.

But Anna knew her game and finally wrapped her mouth over him to suck deeply. John crunched her bedding in his fists to try and hold on but when she fondled his sack between his fingers he came in a rush. With his eyes shut tightly, John had no concept of Anna's reaction or propriety until he finally managed the energy to crack them open to look.

There she sat, licking over her lips and crawling toward him, and John could swear he never experienced a faster revival. She perched just above his chest, her pose and expression matching those of jungle cats cornering their prey but the gentle sweep of her fingers at his hair destroyed the image. In a second she pressed a sweet, short kiss to his lips and pulled back only enough to look him in the eye.

"I want you to sign the papers." John nodded but Anna stopped him with a hand on his cheek. "Not because I'm going to London but because I want you to be Katie-Anne's father."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, John Bates," Anna rubbed her hand over his cheek, eyes looking over him as if admiring a piece of rare and valuable art. "That we're going to get married."

"Now?"

"Is there a better time?"

"How about when my leg's not half the size it's supposed to be and I'm not moving about like a gimp."

Anna only smiled at him, as if to chide his notion of impressing her. "Do you think that your appearance is going to bother me?"

"I'd never think so little of you."

"Then I'll have you know that I won't let you sit on the sidelines making decisions for me with the assumption you'll never see me again." Anna held herself above him. "We're going to get a license, I don't care what it costs, and we're going to get married. We're going to be one another's next of kin and you're going to be the father of my child because I can't ask more than that."

"You don't need to." John kissed Anna's palm and then captured her hand to kiss over her fingers and the back of it. "I'll give you the world if you even happened to think twice about it."

"Just marry me, for now, and leave the world as it is." Anna giggled and went to move but John caught her.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm-" John held her against his chest as he sat up, her back pressed firmly to him with his arm acting a band over her waist. "I'm a hostage now, am I?"

"Only if you want to be." John kissed her shoulder before running a path to the underside of her jaw. "If not then say the word and I release you."

"I don't want to be released." Anna sighed, her head resting back on his shoulder as John's arm shifted to run his fingers over where she still damped and dewed. "Not like that, anyway."

"Then I'll hold you until you're released shall I?" John's fingers slipped deeper and Anna spread her legs around both of John's, curling them back so her knees sunk unto the mattress on either side of his legs.

"Please." She whispered and John positioned his hand so two fingers sunk into her while his thumb danced and pressed at her clit.

Each rocking motion sent his erection sliding against her ass and drove Anna further onto his fingers and thumb until she came with a sobbing screech. John kissed at any of the skin he could reach, accepting the kiss she forced onto his mouth hard enough to clack their teeth together. Her tongue battled for dominance and John soon gave over to it with sweet surrender as she painted his mouth with his taste to swirl it with hers.

They moved together, Anna rising just enough to sheath herself on him. As she sank down, so slowly John wondered if she was not trying to torture him instead of pleasure them both, he used his other hand on her breasts. His care sent more moans from her mouth and John could have grinned to himself if not for Anna tightening her vaginal walls about him. He choked and the slight hitch in Anna's breathing could be mistaken for a laugh.

Neither spoke, just moved together with the frantic energy of two people trying to find the point where they could break together. John almost lost any semblance of control when he looked down and saw her spread over him, each thrust sending him deeper inside of her only to withdraw coated with the shining evidence of them. Her fingers interlaced with hers at her clit and guided him back to that point so they could work her to completion together. Occasionally their fingers brushed over John as he drove back in again, which only stole the last of his delicate propriety so he thrust madly into her and set the frenetic pace that took Anna over the edge. He followed just behind and they stuttered the last of their climaxes against one another before John leaned back on the bed.

Anna shifted, bringing her legs about and rolling off him to land on his side. She tucked her head on his shoulder and met his fingers as they quested for hers. They intertwined and Anna kissed over his knuckles first before John could kiss over hers.

They lay together for a moment before John spoke. "What will you tell Edith?"

"That I can still work from here and make occasional trips to London if she needs me."

"What about Katie-Anne?"

"She'll be fine." Anna leaned up enough to kiss John on the lips. "She's going to have her father to look after her."

John pulled Anna closer to his good side, tucking her into his body as if he could keep her safe there forever. "And when do you want me to put a ring on this lovely finger of yours?"

"As soon as you're able I think." Anna shrugged up her shoulder, "It's possible that we've already skipped to the second part of marriage so…"

"Oh no, we've definitely struck the second part of marriage." John let a hand tickle toward Anna's abdomen before drawing back. "You're afraid we've gone to the third step."

"And if we have?"

"Then I'll love that child until the day I die." John looked Anna in the eye. "Just as I'll love you and Katie-Anne. Forever, always, and completely."

"However, whatever, whenever?"

John nodded, "However, whatever, whenever."

"Good." Anna pushed herself up, "Now I've got to go and get myself cleaned up."

"Why?" John pulled for her but Anna ducked his reach.

"Because I've got to go eat crow in front of someone and that won't be fun." Anna shuddered, finding her clothing. "One should never find themselves at the mercy of Mary Crawley."

"She'll be merciful to you."

"We can only hope." Anna stopped, leaning back over the bed to kiss John again. "And there's a pen for those papers in the drawer of the little table in the sitting room, if you'd be so kind."

"I'd be honored." John held her face to kiss her again. "Forever, Ms. Smith."

Anna nodded at him, "Forever, Mr. Bates."


	11. When Blazing Sun Is Gone

John strode forward, hand clutching tightly to the head of the cane, and aimed for Sybil. Katie-Anne stood next to her, cheering and dancing with each step John managed toward the duo. As he reached the halfway point, John stalling for a moment as his leg seized, Katie-Anne leapt toward him to walk the remainder of the distance by his side. With her hand in his, he reached Sybil and she immediately grasped his shoulder to help him into a chair.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today."

"I must've looked like I was struggling quite a bit on that last one."

"It's three times the distance you went yesterday so I'd better not be hearing a tone of disappointment in your voice when you're doing so well Mr. Bates." She put her hand on the cane and John released it from his shaking, aching fingers. "I think we'll try only a tad farther tomorrow and then see how your leg is doing."

"Are you worried about it?"

"Absolutely not." Sybil squeezed John's hand, shaking it a moment. "You're doing far beyond our grandest hopes and I think your progress is very promising."

She took her final notes, stretching and manipulating John's leg a few times before bidding them goodbye. As she left the shop, John and Katie-Anne waved at her enthusiastically before she turned out of their view. Katie-Anne sighed as she dropped her arm and John nudged her with his shoulder.

"Why don't you help me by locking the door there since Mrs. Bates won't like it if we let anyone in past business hours."

"Okay."

Katie-Anne dashed across the space to lock the door, giggling as she did so, before sprinting back to collide with John's legs. He gritted his teeth past the shock of pain that flared through his nerves but accepted it again when she maneuvered herself onto John's lap. Her little hand gripped tightly to his, squeezing his still-cramped fingers, and positioned herself as she wanted so her legs dangled off the sides of his. But when John tried to take his fingers away she tugged them back toward her, pulling each one straight before massaging over the skin.

When she finished, Katie-Anne straightened his hand and laid hers over it, comparing the sizes. She tugged it up, as if John could not see it from his position, and showed him. "Your hand's bigger than mine."

"Because I'm bigger than you."

"Will my hand ever be bigger than yours?"

"I don't think so."

"Why?" Katie-Anne kept her hand in his and John swooped down to kiss her palm. As she giggled, he brushed back a bit of her hair before speaking.

"Because I'm a man and we're usually bigger."

"Always?"

"There are a few smaller men but mostly we're bigger."

"So you can protect me?" Katie-Anne curled John's fingers around hers and John hugged her closer a moment.

"Always."

"Then you're all better now."

"Thank you, Miss Katie-Anne." John leaned around and laid kisses over her cheeks until she giggled, squirming to the side to hang over his legs so she could snag a book from a pile next to them. "Oh, I see. It was all so I could turn pages."

"Yes." She hissed on the 's' and snuggled closer.

"And what book is this?" Before John could open the cover a rattling knock came at the back door. "You may have to start reading this on your own."

John carefully managed to maneuver Katie-Anne to the chair with one hand while he took his cane with stiff fingers to get himself to his feet. His body complained and John gritted his teeth for a moment to conquer the pain. Once it settled to a dull throb, focused on his healing knee, John shuffled toward the rattling door. Once there he slumped against the wall to manage his breathing as he waited for his leg to stop twitching. He could not wait long, however, as the pounding persisted at an almost manic rate for every second he let it lie.

Checking over his shoulder to make sure Katie-Anne occupied herself on the chair, reading aloud as she turned pages in the book she selected, John opened the door. His jaw could not have hit the floor fast enough or with enough force as he stared at Vera. She merely quirked her eyebrow at his expression and nodded toward the back room as she spoke.

"Mind if I slip in?"

"I'd be a fool to let you."

"Why?"

John came through the door, leaving it cracked to give him a view into the interior to keep his eye on Katie-Anne. She, however, was fully engrossed in her book and paid neither of them any mind at all. "Because you wouldn't allow a cobra to slithering into your home so neither will I."

"That's not very kind."

"Neither were you, last time we met." John paused, biting his tongue. "Why should I let you in?"

"Because a gentleman wouldn't keep me out in the cold." She scoffed at him, "Are you a gentleman?"

"It's not cold."

"But are you a gentleman?"

"It's not cold." John repeated, punctuating each word with a heavy pause.

Vera pointed to the sky, "It's looking like rain."

"Then I guess we're getting wet." John peeked back to check on Katie-Anne, noting the furrow to her brow as she struggled with a few words. "I won't you let you in there with her."

"Why? Worried I'll corrupt your little bastard?" John turned to her, about to speak but she interrupted him. "Don't try to say anything about it because I know more than you think I do."

"About what?"

"The little rumor that you registered yourself as her father."

"And how would you know anything about that?"

"Because I've got a friend in the office where they had to file the paperwork." Vera snorted, "Not that anyone in that office or this town'll believe she's yours. Especially when we all know who the real father was: a sodding German wanker."

"But the people in London don't and that's all that matters." John leaned on his cane, trying to stop a grimace at the pounding ache building in his knee. "If that's all you're here for then you should go. I've got nothing more to say to you."

"Is that how you're going to treat the woman who might be bearing your child?" Vera stroked over her abdomen and John almost tripped back into the wall.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm pregnant with your child John."

"That's impossible."

"So we know." Vera winked at him, "But that's what the people around here will think when I start telling them who the baker of the bun in this oven is."

"It's not mine."

"Are you so sure?"

John paused and then nodded. "We quit one another over four months ago. Whatever baby's growing inside you is some other man's."

"I could grow slower than most."

"It might surprise you to know but I saw more than a few pregnant women during the war and I know you're not that kind."

"Would you bet your reputation on that kind of surety?"

"I'd bet more on the fact you weren't faithful to me when we courted and that you couldn't have hurt for company after we were finished either."

"Do you really think so little of me?"

"It doesn't matter what I think of you. It only mattes that I know the truth."

"And does it set you free?" John scowled at her and Vera only shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter in the end because all that'll matter to your reputation is what I'll do to you when I make everyone aware that this child's yours."

"Why would you do that?" John lowered his voice, peeking back toward Katie-Anne. "Why make it difficult now?"

"I heard you wanted to marry that little trollop and I thought if she could get you to be the father of her child then I could too." Vera pointed toward the interior of the bookshop. "That little bas-"

"Say that word again and I'll make sure you can't speak another word after it." John took a deep breath. "I can't have you ruining their reputation and I won't stand for you trying to ruing their lives. Especially when that little girl in there and her mother have done nothing to you."

"It's got nothing to do with them."

"And I still won't stand for it."

"And what would you do to stop me?" Vera clicked her teeth. "You wouldn't hit a woman would you?"

"I wouldn't have to." John shrugged, "For as modern as the world is I'll bear this better than you will when they all know you've got your own little fatherless secret brewing in your belly."

"Then let me remind you that I've the power to ruin your happiness and everything else associated with that." Vera pointed back into the bookshop. "That means that little girl in there."

"I won't ask why you'd do that since I know you've only got pain to give me for an answer."

"Then you're learning John." Vera leered at him, "I knew you were smarter than you looked if I tried hard enough."

"What do you want then?" John managed, gritting his teeth with each word. "I assume you wouldn't come here to try and squeeze something from me without a plan for how you'd get it beyond just the threats to try and loosen my teeth."

"I'm here for you to agree to sign something when I've got it all drawn up."

"Sign what and why would I agree to it?"

"You'll sign something very similar to the form you filled out for little miss Katie-Anne in there to guarantee this child your name."

John scoffed, "But your child's not mine."

"And Anna Smith's bas- girl isn't yours either but she got your signature."

"I love her and I'm going to marry her mother." John snuck another peek to see Katie-Anne picking up another book. "I don't mind being father to a child with none because she's the child of the woman I intend to marry. I'd be her father anyway so I might as well give her my name when I give it to her mother as well."

"And since there's not a person in this town who doesn't know the raucous times we had when we were together." Vera managed her own smirk. "I'm sure it wouldn't take much to convince people that this little one's yours as well."

"It will when it doesn't look like me."

"And if it does?"

John swallowed, turning to see Katie-Anne turning the pages of her book. After a moment, he sighed and nodded at Vera. "Fine. I'll sign whatever papers you think I should and I'll give your child my name."

"You do realize that'll mean you'll owe it financial support as well."

"That's something I'll have to discuss with Ms. Smith."

"Probably best she hear it from you than from those in town." Vera made to laugh, "What an odd world we live in where you'll be the topic of all the gossip on all sides."

"I beg your pardon?"

"First for going with me. Then for going with the divorcee Jerry-bag. Then for taking on the responsibility of the Jerry brat, which was harder for people to forgive than wanting to shag her mother. Then you wanted to marry the damaged goods… causing many a broken heart. And now…"

"And now?"

Vera grinned, "Now you'll be the father to my child as well. Two little bastards with your name and none of your to claim as their own."

"I'm sure that makes you very happy."

"Not happy, John. Never happy." Vera left it a beat and then sneered. "I'm ecstatic. I got the last word in on this."

"I never wanted-"

"It doesn't matter what you wanted, John. It matters what you did to me and I'm going to do all I can to drive you into the ground as long as I've got breath in me to stand." Vera waved at him, walking off as the rain started with a clap of thunder. "You tell Ms. Smith I said 'hello'. I wouldn't want you to forget and be rude about it."

It took everything John had in him not to slam the door once he got back inside. Instead he dedicated his flagging energy to getting himself into a chair. One just shy of where Katie-Anne waited for him, looking up at him expectantly and then dropping that expression in exchange for one of worry. She hurried over to him, dropping her book to bounce on the floor, and went to climb on his lap.

John stopped her with a hand and pointed to a small stool. "I need that for my leg first please."

She pushed it across the floor as a door opened. A moment later Katie-Anne flew into her mother's arms, almost upsetting a large portfolio case and a smaller suitcase, to hug her tightly. Anna held tightly, dropping her bags to take a better grip on her daughter.

"You'd think I was gone an eternity." Anna kissed her cheek and let Katie-Anne gently to the floor before pulling her things out of the way. "It was only a week."

"It was forever." Katie-Anne insisted and then pointed to John, where he grabbed the arms of his chair with white-knuckled fingers. "He's walking farther."

"Are you?" Anna removed her coat and then grabbed a stool of her own to come to his side. "Are you alright?"

"I stood too long after a session with Sybil and now it's-" His leg seized and John clutched the arm of the chair to try and hide the hiss of pain that snuck through his teeth. "Sorry, it's-"

"Painful." Anna tossed her hat and gloves toward her coat and immediately set to work rolling John's trouser leg up so she could better manipulate the skin around John's knee. "Not sure if this is helping but it's the best I've got."

"It's perfect."

"Or it will be." Anna turned to Katie-Anne. "I need you to retrieve those cloths from the icebox and one of the heating pads I keep. Can you do that?"

Katie-Anne nodded her response and scampered off, her little feet pounding their padding rhythm up the stairs toward her flat. Anna smiled, digging her fingers into the inflamed skin around John's knee to seek a soothing touch to the ache. "What did Sybil say?"

"That I'm improving better that expected and I shouldn't worry about getting back to walking normally."

"You'll still have a slight limp yes?"

"That aside." John winced, twitching away from Anna's fingers but she persisted. "I won't need a cane all the time."

"That's good news." Anna paused, letting his leg shift into a natural position in its stretched state, and turned to him. "But I'd like to know what's actually bothering you."

"Is the throbbing red leg in front of you not enough?"

"Not when I know it's not all that's troubling you." Anna pointed upward. "She won't be back for a moment and I know you wouldn't want her to hear whatever it is that's troubling you."

John took a breath, "Did you see Vera?"

"I might've recognized the outline of the Evil Fairy herself but couldn't be sure and I wasn't about to call out to her." Anna stopped, her brow furrowing so she looked just like Katie-Anne did when she worked out harder words. "Why? Was she here?"

"She came by."

"And what could that horrible woman want?"

John took a breath, "She's pregnant."

Part of him wanted to say more but the expressions on Anna's face manipulated and shifted so quickly he waited for her to finally speak whatever thoughts zipped like lightning over her brain. With a swallow she turned to him. "Is it yours?"

"I'm sure it's not. We've not been together since February and if she was carrying my child we would've known by Liberation Day. As it is, we're almost deep into June. It can't be my child."

"Then that's all I'll ever ask further about that." Anna put her hand on John's arm. "I trust you so please don't believe I asked out of anything-"

"You're right to be worried." John took her hands, working an awkward angle to lean toward her without pulling his leg off the stool. "I know it seems odd and very-"

"Sinister and convenient come to mind." Anna sucked the inside of her cheek. "What did she want from you about it?"

"She wants a form like the one I signed for Katie-Anne so the child will have my name."

"But it's not your child."

"I know." John shrugged, "I can't do anything about who the father of the child is, and certainly nothing about the mother, but perhaps that child needs someone one day. Even if it's not mine, it's something I can do for an otherwise put-upon soul."

Anna raised a hand to John's cheek, running her thumb over the bone there. "You are a singularly charitable man Mr. Bates."

"I'm just…" John sighed, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're being noble because you're a noble man."

"Or a hopelessly idiotic one."

Anna grinned, "Those two things run hand-in-hand on occasion."

"They do." John managed another deep breath, "Which leads me to ask you what you think of her possible demand financial compensation."

"I think she's bloody daft and have to wonder if you are as well."

"It's a distinct possibility." John rested his head back on the chair. "That'd be money we'd use for our family. For the shop and your trips to London and Katie-Anne's schooling and-"

"And if there's a price for keeping an otherwise fatherless child fed and clothed then it's nothing different from the charity plate at church." Anna darted her eyes to the side, another stream of indecipherable thoughts whizzing past her eyes. "We'd have to get an iron-clad document guaranteeing any monies you give go only to the child and not to her grubby hands or even darker pockets."

John blinked at her, "You're agreeing to this?"

"I'm agreeing to help support a child who has a chance to not grow up shunned and outcast in this town the way my child has." Anna stood up from the stool. "It's the right thing to do."

"But you don't-"

"We can all be a little more noble, Mr. Bates, and I intend to try." Anna shrugged, "Perhaps this is my chance to turn the other cheek."

John caught her hand as she went to walk away and tugged her to sit on his lap. A flare of pain fired through leg but John ignored it to bring Anna close enough so she leaned on his chest and her legs straddles his. His finger pushed aside a bit of her hair, golden like Katie-Anne's.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I ask myself that same question every day." Anna exchanged a quick kiss with him, letting his lower lip hold in the grip of her teeth a moment before a sly smile overtook her face. "I see you missed me when I was gone."

"Terribly." John let his hips buck ever-so-gently into hers. "And I'd like to show you just how much."

"With your leg in this state?"

"I'd crawl through fire to show you how much I love you."

"I won't require that." Anna reached her hands down, opening his trousers and helping release him enough to get her hand around the girth of his erection. "We'll just have to be quick since there's a little girl due down any moment."

"Something I'm sure we'll have to do more often in the future when we share a flat with her." John ran his hands over Anna's legs, the rasping tickle of her hosiery when his calloused hands drifted under her skirt to find where she clipped them to her garter belt.

Without a clear path for her knickers, John just used them to his advantage. He pressed his fingers through the fabric to run along her seam in time with her hand working to bring him to full hardness. And with each stroke and tease they exchanged, their breathing hastened all the more until their chests bumped against one another in the struggle to steal enough air to breathe.

Anna clamped her eyes shut, hand tightening in her hold around John as he pressed at her clit through her knickers and worked to press his fingers into her. Her other hand scrambled between then and pulled her knickers out of the way so John could finally touch her bare skin. Then it only took a few moments before Anna came with a muffled shout of his name into the skin of his neck.

They struggled between them to situate themselves given the confines of the chair, John's immobile leg, and their clothing but eventually Anna sank down on him. Her body rose and fell, each time sucking more of him inside of her until their hips met solidly and there was nowhere else to go. There they rested until John tested Anna with a jerk of his hips.

That set her off like a rocket and they moved in a frenzied pace. With one leg on the ground, one of his hands at her hip to hold her in place, and another grasping the chair to give him the leverage his immobile leg lacked, John moved into Anna. Each successive moment took on a more feral, frenzied rut than a smooth stroke or gentle caress. But as his thrusts turned harder, shunting against her when he could not pound as his body desires, Anna dug her nails into his shoulders and sucked red marks down the side of his neck.

It hit them in a flurry and a fury, both breathing hard as they came down. John's lips found Anna's forehead in a gentle kiss that lost none of the emotion he used on their sloppy one a moment later. She ran her fingers over his face, smiling at him, and hurried to move when they heard the return of little feet. After a close call and a moment of fear when Anna's skirt almost flew up and John's trousers threatened not to fasten in his position, they sorted themselves out so Anna could apply the cold towels and the heat to John's leg and Katie-Anne could take her place back on John's lap with a book clutched tightly in her hands.


	12. Then You Show Your Little Light

John held the wall with one hand, his cane in the other, and maneuvered around the flat in the dark. He placed his hand on the knob, listening carefully for other noises, and slipped out to take the stairs to the third level. There his knuckles rapped the door as quietly as he could manage and then slipped inside to greet Anna with a kiss.

"I feel like a girl again, sneaking off to kiss a boy in the dark of a coatroom at a dance hall."

"I've kissed many a girl in dark coatrooms."

"And how do I compare, given I didn't have the chance to kiss quite as many boys in those coatrooms?"

John dipped his head again, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers, "They all pale in comparison to the point they're no more than shadows in my memory."

"I hope you can always say that about me." Anna took his hand and led him into the sitting room. "Although I fear for my reputation with your mother for inviting you here so late."

"I'm sure she'll understand the necessity of needing to have private conversations after children have gone to bed." John eased himself onto her sofa so his leg could stretch out. "What was so pressing that you needed to speak to me immediately?"

"I…" She ground her palms along her skirt and let out a breath. "I wasn't entirely honest with you earlier."

"About?"

"About knowing Vera is pregnant." Anna shook her head, "It's foolish and I-"

"Anna." John covered her hands, forcing her to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think less of me." Her fingers intertwined with his. "Or to think that I believed you might be unfaithful to me."

"You thought I'd…"

"I think it's what Vera wanted me to think." She shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past her to think she could use this as a wedge between us. As a question I'd be too afraid to ask you and you'd be too afraid to confess to me."

"But you still didn't ask me."

"No," Anna teethed her lip, "I think… I think I wanted you to tell me yourself because then I'd know it wasn't true because you'd have nothing to hide from me."

John nodded a moment, his fingers moving over hers before tugging her to sit on the sofa space next to his bent left knee as it went to the floor to give her the room. "Were you afraid I might've been unfaithful?"

"I'm not above admitting I had a moment of doubt." Anna took a breath, "But I never doubted you. I doubted if you'd told me that your… relationship with Vera resulted in something. And I could understand but-"

"But you'd still want to know if it had?"

Anna nodded, "I don't want there to be secrets between us, ever."

"There won't be." John brought her fingers to his mouth, kissing each one. "And I understand your doubt. It would be-"

"No, not you." Anna pulled on his hands. "I never doubted you."

"Never?"

"Never." Anna smiled, "And I don't doubt that the sun'll rise in the East either. I just… I doubted the circumstances. I doubted us, I think, more than you."

"You doubted us?"

"We've both done things we're not proud of, John, and I think the tendency, for the both of us, is to try and hide those things about ourselves." Anna nodded toward Katie-Anne's room. "She's only part of the story for me but it's still hard for me to tell you all of it."

"Vera's the same."

"And I don't think we need to know everything about one another. It's unreasonable and not rational." Anna scooted closer to him. "We may have things that are still… our own, but I don't want any secrets. It's why I had to tell you about my doubts. Even if they were only there for a moment."

"I'm glad you told me." John let out a breath, "And I think you're right. There are always going to be things we're finding out about one another. Always things we're trying to discover about one another and that's alright. I wouldn't want you to ever think I'm keeping anything from you."

"You told me about Vera's visit today, almost immediately, and that tells me everything I need to know about you, John Bates." Anna tipped forward to kiss him. "Although…"

"What?" John frowned but it eased a moment later as he noticed Anna's tongue draw over her teeth. "What's gotten into your head Ms. Smith?"

"I've a rather salacious suggestion, that you're welcome to refuse if you-"

"I'd be a fool to refuse you anything." John urged her closer, framing her face with his hands. "What would you suggest Ms. Smith?"

"That perhaps, since you've already come all this way and your leg is injured, you might consider staying the night."

"And where, Ms. Smith, would I stay?" John made a show of looking around. "This sofa is very comfortable for sitting but not conducive for sleeping."

"You're quite right." Anna huffed, as if out of options, "I guess I'll have to invite you to my bedroom."

"How scandalous."

"I trust your word, as a gentleman, that if you promised to keep to yourself then it'll be more than chaste." Anna leaned forward, her lips ghosting over his skin. "Would you promise to be a gentleman Mr. Bates?"

"Absolutely not." John's lips locked on hers and he tugged her forward so one of her legs bent behind her while the other fell over his leg to fall flat on the floor.

Her mouth shifted over his, the tips of their tongues taunting one another, and she pulled back after a moment. "You're quite right. This sofa is not appropriate for sleeping."

"Or much else in my current position."

"For another time then." Anna maneuvered herself off John's lap and extended her hand to him. "Care to accompany me?"

John took her hand and pulled himself to his feet, his other hand reaching for his cane before he paused. "Will we wake Katie-Anne?"

"She sleeps like the dead." Anna grinned at him, drawing her finger down John's jaw. "You do remember the first time we… did the deed, don't you?"

"I do but," John kissed Anna quickly, "I was rather focused on remembering other things."

"Were you?" Anna sucked the insides of her cheeks before stepping away from him to slip the buttons on her blouse loose from their holes. "Perhaps you'd like to remind me what, exactly, you remember."

"I can only move so quickly." John gripped tightly on the head of his cane to hold himself steady as he went to follow her with measured steps.

"Then I'll be sure to keep my taunting at a safe distance." Anna pulled her blouse apart and out of her skirt. "I'd hate to ruin it for you before I have a chance to rile you up a bit."

"Tease."

Anna only grinned wider and continued walking backward down the hall toward her room. "We'll have to be careful."

"You said Katie-Anne could sleep like the dead." John pointed toward the door, "Does she not-"

"She won't be the problem." Anna pulled her blouse completely off her arms as the golden glow of the sitting room lights faded to let the blue hue of her dark room envelop her. "But your mother might."

"She's asleep."

"In the room right under mine." Anna held herself in the doorway, "Do you still dare, Mr. Bates?"

"I'd be a fool to let it stop me." He pressed forward, faster than she was expecting and possibly faster than he should have but the regret could accompany the pain later. At the moment he towered above her in the doorway. "We'll just have to see how quiet we can be."

"That depends on your dexterity, I think." Anna stayed where she was, holding his gaze as they stood still in the doorway. "How is your leg?"

"Not enough of a problem to stop me." John let his free hand leave where he sought extra balance from the doorjamb to run along her jaw and hold there. "I love you, Anna Smith, and I'll never love anyone the way I love you."

"Then it's rather lucky that I love you too." Anna draped her arms around his neck, her brassiere rasping along the material of his shirt. "Take me to bed John."

"With pleasure."

John backed her into the bed and left his cane to hang from the metal stand at the foot. They pivoted around one another and John lowered himself to the bed with his hands sliding down Anna's sides. She mimicked his motions with her fingers trailing down his shirt to echo the earlier opening of her buttons. But each time she pulled one of his apart, Anna placed a kiss on the exposed skin.

Pulling the material from his trousers, John struggled with the cuffs at his wrists. His arms worked behind his back, more from memory than from actual skill, and eventually he freed himself for the shirt to drift half-heartedly over the metal frame. There was no time to think on its position as Anna's fingers speared through the drizzle of exposed hair on his chest and pushed him back to the bed.

"You are overdressed Mr. Bates."

"As are you, Ms. Smith."

Anna crawled over John, her grip tugging his undershirt loose from his trousers to allow her hands to slip under the material and spread over the planes of his chest. "Perhaps we should help one another with that."

"I heartily agree." John's hands settled at her hips, the scratch of the fabric of her skirt scoring against her stockings almost setting his teeth on edge in the silence. "But you've me at a disadvantage."

"Perhaps that's where I want you." One of her hands slipped between them to flip his buckle out of the way and draw the zipper on his trousers down slowly enough the sound echoed around the room. "At a disadvantage."

"What's the benefit to you?"

"I have the upper hand." As if she worked out the exact timing of her statement, she wrapped around him to squeeze gently. John bucked up, throwing his head back into the mattress as Anna giggled. "And I know exactly what I'll do with it."

Her skirt caught on his hand and the hoarse slide of her stockings now vibrated over his legs instead of his fingers. Two thumps signaled her knees hitting the floor and John could only lift his hips as Anna yanked at the legs of his trousers to bring them off his hips. They almost caught but, as she pulled his pants with her, they landed on the floor in whatever pile his shoes and socks formed.

With only his undershirt remaining, John tried to pull himself further up the bed. But Anna's hands on his knees stopped him. In the darkness, half lights from the street all they had for illumination except for the hints of glow from the sitting room at the end of the corridor, John noted the glint in her eyes before her hands went to work. One of them massaged his inflamed knee, soothing and stroking as if to ease the tension throughout his whole body by relieving the pain there. And it proved distraction enough that when her other hand took up the cause of caring for his arousal, John almost jerked off the bed.

The tiny giggling chuckle of satisfaction from her inspired two reactions. The first, in response to the playful care of his body and the attention she gave without reprieve, had him sinking into gratefulness for the day he met this woman. The other, a direct result of her delicate but informed touches on his erection, had him wondering where this woman sprang from to do this to him. In moments he whimpered and groaned as his body alternated between relaxing and tightening. His leg soothed and the rest of him coiled at the ministrations of her hands.

As his voice rose, catching in his throat as he tried to strangle the sensations rushing through him, John reached for Anna. His fingers tangled in her hair and she rose just enough to lean over him. But then her mouth settled over him and John's fingers at her scalp clenched to hold tightly there as he moved toward her.

It violated ever instinct, as a gentleman, but his primal desires took over. John's hips rose off the bed, pressing toward the warm welcome of her mouth, and his other hand clung to the duvet covering Anna's bed. Each swirl of her tongue or drag of her teeth while her hands worked to squeeze or caress him left his lungs tightening to the point where black dotted his vision.

In the moment when he was sure he could take no more, Anna pulled her mouth away with a gently slide. One last lick over him was all John had for a breather before Anna pulled her skirt up to her hips. The flash of light-colored fabric dropped from her waist and John's eyes rolled back into his head at the knowledge her knickers hit the floor. It was no more than an eternity that lasted a second before she sheathed herself on him.

John's chest constricted and every thought went to holding himself steady as she rocked herself down his length until he could go no further inside her. The depth of his drive reminded him of their previous encounters. A sensation he was sure he could never replicate with anyone else, and never wanted to, streaked through him with each gyration of Anna's hips. And when she draped herself over his chest, her nails scoring at his undershirt to finally tug it over his head, John let his body react.

Each thrust of his hips met her ambitious motions. No kiss he attempted to lay on her exposed skin was unreturned. And when his hands finally found position at her hips, Anna moved with the guidance before taking control back in such a way John wondered if he ever had it at all… or even if he wanted it.

Her noises muffled and huffed as the open door and the thin floors proved their enemies. But John did not allow that to stop him from finally freeing Anna of her brassiere. It flopped over his shirt on the metal footboard but left Anna's breasts almost exposed through her slip.

Tipping himself up, a twinge in his hip threatening to stop him before he began, John held Anna tighter to him. His fingers dug into her hips to meet her motions and set them on a matching rhythm as the gleam in her eyes shone in the dark. They stared at one another, rolling and writhing in their dance, before both moved. John's mouth closed over Anna's breast while her hand snuck between them.

The flirt of her fingers over him sent John rutting as hard as his current position would allow. The leverage from his feet on the floor proved sufficient counterpoint to Anna's bobbing hips that undulated with each press of her fingers to her nerves. Fingers that slipped and slid between them to tease his sensitizing skin when he glided back to the edge.

John let his tongue move between her breasts, painting messy kisses between the nipping grazes of his teeth that left Anna quivering against him. Her other hand scrunched in his hair, tipping his head up to meet her lips so their tongues could tangle. And when he was sure he could bear no more, his body like a compressed spring waiting for release, Anna rose on her knees and slammed herself down.

His release caught him off guard and his arms wrapped around her to hold steady to something. Her nails scored and raked at his shoulders, the scorching cling of her walls around him matching the cry she buried in his mouth, as Anna joined him. Together they shifted and shuddered and stuttered together as they came down from their high.

Slipping back, his strength finally failing him, John lay on the bed. Instinct kept his arms around Anna but even they fell to bed as his boneless body twitched in the aftermath of their event. An event that Anna's little giggle brought into reality.

"What could be so funny, Ms. Smith?"

"I was just thinking," Anna adjusted, slipping off him and moving to his left to avoid his leg. "I hope your leg improves but I do like having you at my mercy."

"Instead of you at mine?"

"It's a nice reversal."

"We've not had time for it to be different."

"Then perhaps," Anna moved off the bed to toss her skirt and stockings away so only her slip remained, "We might think about a reversal in the future."

"One where I, perhaps, have the chance to have my way with you?"

"Perhaps."

"I don't know." John drew his finger along her jaw before brushing hair from her eyes. "I believe I like you having your way with me."

"You do?"

"Of course." John pulled himself onto his elbow to move onto the bed and spread himself lengthwise over it. "There's nothing more appealing to me than my ethereal fiancé taking the pleasure she wants and giving me some back in return."

"Then you… liked it?"

John blinked at Anna in the dark, almost swearing he could see the tinge of red to her cheeks. "I'm sure you're a good enough illustrator to know what physical reactions might indicate."

Anna swatted at him, "I didn't want to assume."

"In the case of my pleasure, always assume." John lay back on the bed, opening his arm to her. "Men are simple and our pleasure is simple as well. There are few questions about whether or not we enjoyed it."

"Then you did?"

"Very much." John laughed, Anna settling her weight next to him. "Although I'd ask you not tease me so much in the future."

"But it's such fun."

"At least, not while I'm still struggling to react." John tipped his head to see her better. "It's not sporting."

"Now that I know the rules I'll think on it a bit more." Anna kissed his shoulder and settled. "It'd be best for us both to try and sleep a bit."

"No need to pull my arm Ms. Smith."

John closed his eyes and could swear it was not a second later that he opened them. But the darkest part of the night already passed them by to leave the barest hint of gray on the horizon. He moved on the bed but stopped when he noticed no weight rested by his side and a figure stood at the window. In the moment it took his sleep-addled brain to realize the person missing was the one at the window, Anna spoke.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"No," John shook his head, maneuvering gingerly to swing his leg to the floor and test it. "What's got you up so early?"

"I couldn't sleep." Anna shrugged, turning back to the window. "Too many thoughts buzzing through my head."

"Good thoughts, I hope." John put his hands on the bed and pushed himself standing, quickly judging the distance between the bed and the window to make it in two strides so he stood behind Anna. "Unless there's something bothering you."

"Not as such." Anna's hand reached down to hold one of his, drawing it diagonally across her torso and holding it there. "Just… Just the things a mother worries about in the dark of the night."

"Well," John pressed a delicate kiss to her temple. "Why don't you tell me what a father should be worrying about since you don't need to bear that burden alone anymore."

"You're right." Anna kissed the back of his hand, leaning slightly toward his chest until his other arm wrapped over her shoulders to take her weight. "I wonder if we made the right decision."

"Which one?"

"Staying on Guernsey."

John paused, resting his chin on her head and holding her just a touch tighter. "Would you want to go somewhere else?"

"I wouldn't know where to go."

"We could go anywhere." John moved to kiss the top of her head. "The world is our oyster, Anna, and you only have to say the word for us to be off somewhere."

"You'd do that?" Anna slipped her head from under his and tilted to look up at him. "You'd leave your mother and this bookshop to make me happy?"

"I'd do anything to make you happy." John smiled at her, pulling her fingers between his own at her shoulder. "And do people not need books in other places in the world? Couldn't we take my mother with us?"

"But this is her home, her store, her life."

"Then we make new ones."

Anna brought her other hand up to his cheek. "You are, perhaps, the single most wonderful man I've ever met in my life."

"Then you've not met enough men."

"I've met plenty of men." Anna kissed his jaw. "They weren't the right men."

"I see." John nodded, feigning solemnity as the hand not held across her body glided down her slip to work under its hem and trace up her thighs. "And what, pray tell, does the right man do?"

"He takes in a daughter that's not his own." Anna tried to tease him back but John's hand at her shoulder held that one fast and his other hand escaped her slip to bring her free hand back to her hem. "He offers to marry a Jerry-bag divorcee."

"Sounds simple enough." John guided their hands between her legs and up to stroke against her seam. "Any other requirements?"

"He… He uh," Anna swallowed, her fingers twisting with his to guide their motions while her legs spread wider. "He takes great interest in defending her honor to any and all."

"Like any man should do for those he loves." John bent to kiss Anna's neck while maneuvering the arm across her chest to stroke and massage her breasts through her slip. "Don't tell me it's so simple."

"He loves literature, cares for his mother, believes in freedom, and fights nobly for his country."

"You're looking for a very particular soul." John paused, one of his fingers sunk deeply into her as her fingers skittered over her folds. "Do I know him?"

"I hope so." Anna let her head rest back on John's shoulder. "He intends to marry me soon."

"Am I invited?" John teased, nibbling her earlobe before kissing down her jaw. "I'd hate to think you left me out of the party."

"I need you there." Anna's hand wrapped over his wrist and guided his fingers between her legs, manipulating him as she wished so all John had to do was follow her instructions. "I've a place of honor for you."

"Consider me honored." John tweaked Anna's nipple and nudged her to face him. "I'd gladly be there for you."

"Good."

Their lips crashed together as John sent Anna over the edge. She sighed and shrieked into his mouth as John stroked the spot inside her that dragged out her climax and strangled the blood from him fingers at the grip of her walls around them. His thumb moved with her fingers in a frenzy over her clit to keep her crashing at the edge until she almost sagged in his hold.

As she settled, John withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth as Anna watched his reflection in the glass of the mirror. Without a word, their eyes the only way they connected, John lifted the back of her slip and caressed her ass with his hands. The gentle massage reflected in the rolling of her hips and shoulders while the final tremors of her orgasm subsided.

When they dissipated enough, John eased her legs apart and thrust forward. Anna's fingers dug into the window ledge and her teeth almost shoved through her lip as her body went on tip-toe. John adjusted, waiting for her signal to continue, and ignored the flare of pain from his knee. Pain that was nothing compared to the pleasure of the clinging constriction of her vaginal walls around him. Walls that tried to hold him hostage when he set a steady rhythm.

Her ass cradled perfectly between his hips, balancing them for each thrust that brought him back to the ends of her. And in no time at all, her grip on the ledge providing her the leverage she needed, Anna drove back toward him. They met and separated, the slick slap of their bodies meeting and shunting together filling the room while they attempted to suppress their own noises.

But it still took the melding of their mouths, swallowing the shouts and screeches, to keep their finishes to themselves. They separated when their bodies finished and John let his hands slip away from Anna's hips with a final caress of her clit. She shivered and smiled at him, holding herself up as John staggered back to the bed.

In a moment she joined him there, licking her lips, and sending shivers through John. As she put her hands on either side of his head to hold herself above him, John gazed up at her in wonder. "Aren't you exhausted?"

"Not as yet." She crawled around him, kissing him as she turned, "Are you?"

"Not exactly," John's hands maneuvered to hold her legs and manipulated them both so she now leaned over him, her knees knocking against his shoulders, and her hands supporting herself on his chest. "I am… well, I'd hate to scandalize a lady like yourself."

"I'm not a lady." Anna kissed him, pulling back to look in his eyes. "And I don't pretend to be."

"Then you won't mind if I'm a bit thirsty."

Before Anna could say anything, John tugged her hips down and immediately dragged his tongue through her folds. The culmination of the night's activities and the repeat performance of the morning left her excruciatingly wet. And he loved it.

Loved it. Licked it. Laved it. And even laughed a little against her to watch her quiver in response to the vibrations over her sensitive skin. Skin he folded and sucked before delving deeper to try and dig out all traces of her taste. The taste that combined and intrigued him as it changed. Changed in mixture with his own.

But for the clawing of her nails against his chest, or the huffing breathes hot against his skin, Anna was not to be outdone. With his mouth occupied and view blocked, John could only react when her mouth closed over him. Then it was almost like a race to find the spots that sent the other rising toward their end fastest.

Even with John's lead, he knew he could not win. Not when Anna, by the grace of her gender, had the privilege of climaxing as often as she wished before being ready for more. He, on the other hand, had proven himself a worthy opponent but even his body had limits. And with Anna's tongue swirling over him, sucking as deeply as she dared to match his unbated assault on her sex, he was quickly risking losing an opportunity.

Gracing her nerves with a final, deeply soulful, suck, John ducked from under Anna. Dragging his leg to leave Anna a bit surprised, John sat up to kiss her. Their lips connected and both groaned as they tried to take the taste that was unique to them from the other.

The kiss distracted Anna long enough to John to move her onto her back. She paused, her eyes flicking to his leg, but John shook his head and kissed her again. As their mouths slanted to find the deepest crevices of pleasure and taste, John maneuvered himself between Anna's legs. When she widened them and locked her ankles at the small of his back, John thrust forward.

Anna's eyes flew open and her gasp broke their kiss. John grit his teeth, holding still to keep himself from breaking upon contact with her dripping heat. The press of their chests seeking air kept them locked in their own worlds a moment as their minds struggled to comprehend the details of the moment. But when they could finally meet one another's eyes. They felt no rush.

Their earlier explorations were frenzied and frantic. The drive to meet and seek the deepest parts of themselves and the other evident as they dove to the edge together. But now, as they synchronized in a slow dance that kept their eyes locked and their bodies sinuously entwining, no such desire existed. They now occupied a place removed from space and time that left them nothing but exquisite pleasure and unadulterated peace.

The rise and fall of their next climax happened not with a bang but with a whisper. A gentle tugging of the tide that invited them to move deeper, clutch closer, and finally pull to occupy the same body until they broke with a great sigh. With a cry like a morning bird Anna fell over the edge, exposing her neck to the final kisses John managed before his growl reverberated through the bones of her shoulder.

Laying together, in the lightening of the morning, Anna slipped to the side to allow John to move onto his good side. They stared at one another, still connected and unwilling to let go. Fingers traced faces, arms, bones, and hearts as their eyes blinked and flickered to shut. Then, in the quiet of the world they made together, they fell asleep.


	13. Twinkle, Twinkle, through the Night

John blinked himself awake and eased away from Anna. She only grumbled slightly, burying her head in her pillow to continue sleeping. Beaming at her, and leaving a kiss on her temple, John left the bed to gather his clothes.

Sneaking as quietly from the room as he could manage, the note on her bedside table explaining his departure, John turned to see Katie-Anne rubbing her eyes in the corridor. She frowned up at him with her blonde curls askew and yawned so widely it stretched her whole jaw as if she intended to swallow him. But Katie-Anne's tiny body just squeezed past him in the space remaining in the corridor to push into her mother's room.

John stood there, his tie draped around his neck and a hand to the wall to hold himself up with his cane off the floor to prevent the clicks disturbing anyone. He pursed his lips, sucking tightly to the insides of his cheeks, and turned between Anna's bedroom door and the one to the flat. The same door where he set his socks and shoes before laying his cane beside it to investigate the icebox.

The crackle of bacon, the pop of eggs, and the gentle frying of toast contributed to the lovely odors of the kitchen as John busied himself at the stove. He kept careful control of the food and utensils before him to butter the bread and lay it in perfect order amongst the three plates laid there. A small one for Katie-Anne, with appropriately smaller portion, bumped as the little girl climbed excitedly onto her seat at the table to seize her fork and spoon.

"It seems an Elf broke into our flat and is making us food this morning." Anna's voice ran over his skin in time with her fingers at his arm and John suppressed a shiver to face her. "Should I be worried that he wants to fatten us up for his dinner?"

"Not the kind of dinner I'd want." He murmured against her lips before kissing her. "Katie-Anne saw me in the corridor."

"I was curious who broke in since your note said you were trying to sneak back to yours." Anna grinned, kissing him quickly to the giggles and 'ews' from Katie-Anne. "I didn't think you'd make us breakfast."

"I thought it might explain why I was here." John jerked his head toward Katie-Anne as her fork punctured the head of an egg to ooze yolk over her plate. "Make it a bit less awkward if she asked."

"And who makes it less awkward if your mother asks?"

John shrugged, "I thought I 'd just use the same story really."

"She won't buy that."

"She'll have to." John flipped another egg. "Because it's the only thing I'll tell her about last night."

"And I'm grateful for that." Anna folded her arms over her chest, pulling her dressing gown tight over herself. "But I'm more worried about what she'll have to say in regards to a rumor that won't be a rumor flying around this town in no time at all."

John paused, butter ready on the knife to spread over the toast in his hand. "You mean about Vera?"

"I mean what Vera's got to say."

"My mother, for her eternal dignity, wasn't immune to the rumors of our relationship when we were together." John cringed, "As much as it pains me to say she knew the kind of… relations we had."

"I'm guessing it wasn't because you wanted to warn your mother."

"It was a very awkward dinner before Vera and I stopped courting."

"I do hope that when we finally tell your mother about-"

"She knows we're getting married" John held up a hand, "That's all she need know about whatever relations we're having."

Anna managed a little smile. "I don't think she's a fool."

"And I didn't say she was but there are things that are better left as suspected fact than confirmed." John finished with the last of the breakfast and brought it to the table. "Katie-Anne's been very patient and I think she deserves to eat."

"Yes." She grabbed her arms around her torso tightly and scrunched her eyes closed. "Dear Lord, we thank thee for the food we are about to consume and our lives. May God's grace shine on us. Amen."

"Amen." John coughed, trying to hide his laugh at the girl who immediately dug her fork into the oozing egg to smear it over a bit of toast she subsequently bit to pieces over her plate. "I fear we've got a little creature in the house by the way she's devouring the food."

"Katie-Anne's not got the best of table manners at breakfast." Anna glared at her daughter but Katie-Anne was far too busy digging around in the messy remains of her egg for the last bit of bacon. "Must've gotten it from me."

"Not one for mornings."

"No." Anna frowned, "I despise them. When I was younger I wished that, just once, I could wake up naturally."

"Perhaps," John leaned over the table, "Perhaps I could help you appreciate mornings."

Anna let her tongue dart out to catch a bit of marmalade on her lip but held John's gaze. "I could greatly enjoy that on a different occasion."

"I'm sure I would too." John turned to Katie-Anne, "Tell me, do you think I should take your mother to France for our honeymoon or to England?"

Katie-Anne turned to him, her curls bouncing, and chewed thoughtfully a moment before speaking. "Where do I go?"

"You'll say here, with Mrs. Bates." Anna put her hand through Katie-Anne's hair. "How do you manage to tangle it so completely when you sleep?"

"Fairy knots." She chewed loudly on her toast before turning to John. "I think you should take her to Ireland."

"Ireland?" Anna grinned as her eyebrows rose. "What's in Ireland?"

"Fairies." Katie-Anne nodded, "Mrs. Bates told me all about them and says there are little islands where they live and dance."

"She told you that?" John folded his arms over his chest, leaning back and making a show of studying Katie-Anne. "Did she also tell you that you're a fairy?"

"She said I'm fairy-kind. That's different." The definitiveness of her answer almost made John laugh. "But you could go to where the fairies are and they'll give you three wishes."

"I think you confused fairies with djinn."

"No," She shook her head, curls whirling around in a way that made Anna grimace and John realized the trial of having to brush out those curls. "If you capture a fairy then they owe you three wishes. They'll try to trick you into getting other answers you don't need but you've got to convince them that you're serious about your need for answers."

"Oh," John nodded at her before turning to Anna. "How are we going to refuse the opportunity to go and see fairies?"

"I don't know." Anna took a deep breath, going for her teacup. "I guess I'll have to find three questions to ask the fairies."

Katie-Anne giggled. "I want to see the fairies."

"But you don't take children on a honeymoon, sweetheart." Anna put her hand through Katie-Anne's hair again. "It's a chance for… parents to get to know one another better now that they're married."

"You know one another already." Katie-Anne argued, frowning. "Why would you need that to-"

"You're right." John turned to Anna. "We don't need to make it alone so, what we could do, is turn it into a family holiday."

"Holiday?" Katie-Anne brightened, almost standing up in her chair until Anna shot her a warning look. "Would Mrs. Bates come too?"

"I don't see why not." John took Anna's free hand, moving his thumb over her hand. "We could go and see some of her family there and perhaps take a tour of some of her favorite places."

"Do you want that?" Anna maneuvered her fingers in his hand to intertwine them. "To use our honeymoon as a family holiday?"

"I think it's better." John paused, "Is that alright with you?"

Anna pulled John's hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles. "I think it's perfect."

"Really?"

"Really." Anna let their hands drop to the tabletop. "It'll be good for all of us to spend time together since it's not just you and I getting married. We're bringing our families together and we need to take that into account."

"I would've thought our families were already well-integrated."

"Not in this way." Anna looked at her engagement ring. The simple band wrapped her finger and John ran his thumb over it as well. "I can't believe we're going to get married."

"Neither can I." John kissed the ring. "I'd best be off though. I've got work to do and I'll need to try and edge around my mother."

"Good luck." Anna sighed, putting her chin on her palm to watch Katie-Anne. "I've got curls to fight this morning."

"Let me." John pushed away from the table, "I can spare a few minutes for it."

"Are you sure?" Anna quirked an eyebrow up, "It won't be a few minutes."

"I'll have to get used to it since I'll be doing it in the future too."

"You are a man with surprises and talents I think make me fall in love with you more every day."

"I'm glad." John stood and bent over to kiss Anna's upturned lips. "Where's the hairbrush?"

John managed to capture a giggling Katie-Anne and positioned her on his knees to work out the tangles and snarls of her hair. It took her guidance, and a few hisses, before John worked out a rhythm to brush through the delicate curls. But once he finished they shone and Anna emerged from the kitchen to beckon Katie-Anne to her.

"We've got to get you ready for the day so I can as well."

"Thank you, John." Katie-Anne kissed John's cheek and bounced off his knees to go to her mother. "I'll see you later."

"Yes you will." John used his cane to rise from the sofa and retrieved his socks and shoes from near the door.

He went to open it but Anna put her hand over his, drawing it to her mouth to kiss again. "Thank you."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"Perhaps." Anna grinned and John could not stop himself kissing her lips. "I'll see you later?"

"Of course." John opened the door, "You know where to find me."

"Then," Anna held the door between them, resting on it as John moved toward the stairs. "Perhaps you'd be interested in a date."

"A date?" John raised an eyebrow. "Don't we both know where something like that could lead?"

"I was rather hoping it would lead there but I think it'll do us good to get out and about together."

"Then I'll see you at seven, Ms. Smith." John paused at the top of the stairs, "And you'd best bring your dancing shoes."

"You can dance?"

"I'll manage a slow waltz or foxtrot." John patted his leg. "Don't expect a tango or anything with more energy but I could get a slow song or two in with you."

"Then I'll dust them off." Anna blew him a kiss, "Seven."

"Seven." John affirmed and waited until she closed the door before working his way down the stairs.

Whatever smile Anna helped plaster to his face that morning almost immediately dissipated when he opened the door to his flat and his mother stood there with her arms folded over her chest. "Sleep well?"

"I did."

"I noticed it wasn't in your bed."

John shut the door. "I do hope you're not going to tell me I'm too young for this kind of behavior."

"I was going to say you're too old for this sort of behavior." His mother sighed, "And while I realize you're an adult and I can't say anything that'll stick in terms of the relationship you're developing with Anna but-"

"We're getting married."

"But you're not yet, John, and she doesn't need any more shame brought to her name." His mother took a breath, "Neither do you."

He cringed, "I'll guess you've heard a nasty little rumor that involved Vera and I from someone like Mrs. Bartlett."

"I'd rather have heard it from you."

"She only stopped by yesterday afternoon to tell me herself."

"Does Anna know?"

"I told her first thing."

Mrs. Bates sighed, "At least you're honest in this relationship."

"What does that mean?"

"As much as I detested Vera, for reasons not entirely within her power to control, you were never honest with her."

John frowned, "What do you mean? I never stepped out on her and I dedicated to her as far as our relationship lasted. Despite her-"

"Whatever mistakes she made are her own and she'll answer to whatever God she worships for them." Mrs. Bates took a breath, "But you were never in love with her and both of you fooled yourselves believing otherwise."

"Is it so bad to have someone you only want for a bit?"

"Not if you're taking them to your bed."

"We were never-"

"Or her bed." Mrs. Bates cut him off, shaking a finger at him. "I don't care how old you are, John Bates, but you're not going to try and argue semantics with me."

John took a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing in a rush. "I'll admit that my relationship with Vera was entirely for pleasure. There was no purpose to it but passion and I rather enjoyed it at the time. I thought she did as well and I miscalculated."

"It's not as easy as all that. When you add physical relations into it. You know that John." Mrs. Bates waved her hand to bring him to the sitting room. "Whatever you had with Vera, for whatever reason, was a lie. A lie to distract yourself from the woman you actually loved."

"I know."

"I think Vera did as well." Mrs. Bates sat in her chair. "We all try to convince ourselves we're strong enough for the truth but we're really not."

"You believe she's taking this as revenge for me never loving her? Not just because we ended on poor terms and I took up with Anna?"

"Those who are miserable desire that others be miserable like unto themselves, as the scripture states." Mrs. Bates leaned over and put her hand on John's to stop him dry-washing them. "What does she want from you?"

"To claim the child she's carrying is hers, regardless of the true paternity."

"Something I think she'd have a difficult time narrowing down given how often she's at the dockside bars." Mrs. Bates shook her head, "I judge no man or woman but there are consequences to our actions."

"And this is the consequence to mine." John manipulated their hands to hold his mother's. "It's why I agreed to it."

"You'll accept being the father of her child?"

"Anna and I talked it over and, with the help of a solicitor Mary Crawley has, we'll get documents that'll say as much but enforce that any and all monies I give her for the child are only for the child."

"A careful consideration."

"It's what we can do." John kissed his mother's hand. "I'm sorry if I've disappointed you."

"I think you've confused worry for disappointment my dear boy." She pulled his face closer to kiss his cheek. "There are trials and tribulations we wish would never affect our children and then we watch them suffer other pains entirely."

"I'm sure you hoped I'd never have to serve."

"Your father fought in the first war so I knew it had to happen but no, I never wanted you to go to war." She looked in his eyes, "You don't quite have the haunted look he did but I can see it in you. You've got a weight there and it troubled me when you first returned."

"And now?"

"I do believe Anna's helped to lift some of those fears away." Mrs. Bates shrugged, "Vera could never do that for you."

"Then I'd best to the business of setting it all right." John stood, "I've got to mend some fences."

"And build a few more." Mrs. Bates pushed herself out of her chair. "I will ask you again, is there anything I should keep in mind during all this wedding planning? Anna'll be by later to discuss it and I want to be sure."

"Whatever she decides is more than enough for me." John aimed down the hallway. "I need to be going."

"And change out of yesterday's clothes."

John did not respond as he went into the washroom.

Within an hour later he sat across the table from Mary Crawley as she pursed her lips and let one of her perfectly curved eyebrows raise. "And that's the long and the short of it, is it?"

"I'm sure you've already heard the rumors."

"I'm aware that Mrs. Bartlett couldn't keep that kind of information to herself and must've thought she could help your… old paramour swindle you given what she knew you did for Katie-Anne." Mary leaned back in her chair, putting a long, slim finger to her temple as her other fingers curled toward her chin. "The part that boggles my mind is why you're willing to accept her conditions."

"The child, for all intents and purposes, would be helpless." John shrugged, "You and I both know enough about Vera between us to realize that."

"But taking on a child that's not yours…"

"Is it so different than what I did for Katie-Anne?"

Mary barked a laugh, "Very different. You love Anna and you don't love Vera. You love Katie-Anne and I couldn't begin to tell you how you feel about this child."

"It needs a father."

"It doesn't have to be you."

"And if Vera tells the whole island the child's mine all the same?"

Mary pushed air past her teeth. "Pffft, she'll not find that easy if the baby comes out dark and brown."

John's brow furrowed, "Excuse me?"

"Lately, as I'm sure you've heard, she's spent a lot of time at the dockside bars… entertaining the guests there."

"I'd heard something about that."

"Then I'm sure you're also aware that given the shortage of sailors after the war, there are a lot of African and Jamaican sailors taking to the seas."

"I've seen them quayside."

"Then you'll realize the percentage of chances that dear Vera's baby won't be your coloring." Mary leaned over, "Her ruse only lasts if she can bet on the low statistical probability the baby's white."

"All the same, no matter who the true father of the baby is, he's not coming back for it and that child'll be left destitute to a mother no one would hire." John shuddered, "Especially with a half-black baby at her hip."

"It'd serve her right for taking up that kind of life."

"It serves me right for taking up with her when I knew I didn't love her and I shouldn't have." John shook his head, "My mind's made up. Anna's made up her mind. And, although she regrets it, my mother's made up her mind as well. I'm taking responsibility for the baby in Vera's belly and I just need the documents to protect that child and myself from Vera."

Mary shook her head. "You are a peculiar man, John Bates, and I honestly don't know if that's a good thing."

"At this point it's moot anyway."

"You're right." Mary pulled a date book toward her, "Anna's traveling with me to London next week, for a few days while we finish up a few things with Edith and their editors and I help her finish her wedding shopping, so I'll get the papers written there and we'll have them signed and official before the wedding."

"Tying it all up with a nice little bow?"

"It's more of a noose, in my opinion, but think of it what you will." Mary penciled in the particulars and left her pencil in the book. "I am excited for your wedding, all truth be told."

"I'm flattered you've thought anything about it."

"Please," Mary pushed herself out of her chair and walked John to the door. "Anna's one of my dearest friends and I gawk at the reality that once you and I were conspiring to make you Katie-Anne's father when she wouldn't notice and now you're going to bring them both more happiness than I could've imagined for them."

"All I want is for their happiness."

"That's the best part." Mary extended her hand, "Good luck in all of this Mr. Bates. I do hope you can weather this storm."

"I'd weather anything for her."

"Good answer."

* * *

John straightened his tie and smiled at his image in the mirror. The new suit fit perfectly and he took a deep breath to try and still his racing heart. Rapid beats against his chest cavity sounded like the thunder of hooves at a race as he ascended the stairs to Anna's flat. His knuckles rasped against the door and it opened to reveal Anna in a blue dress that flared out below her knees.

His mouth dried in seconds and John swallowed at least three times before he could speak. "You look marvelous."

"Thank you." Anna offered her hand to him. "Your mother was already kind enough to host Katie-Anne so I believe our evening can start."

"She'll have to get used to that kind of request." John kissed Anna's hand.

"Not too often I hope." Anna made a face, "I'd hate for her to think all we need her for is watching Katie-Anne."

"She'll also be watching our future children as well."

"John Bates," Anna swatted at his chest as they descended the stairs together. "That kind of talk is beneath you."

"I stand corrected." John tried to feign shame but could not manage it when he caught sight of the back of Anna's dress. "When did you get this?"

"It's one of Mary's old ones." Anna craned her head to see the back before grinning at John. "Took me a bit of hemming but I think it worked well."

"I'd say it worked more than well." John pulled her to a stop at the bottom of the stairs to kiss the back of her neck and let his fingers trail down her back. "If we weren't going out for the evening I'd do us both the courtesy of removing it right here."

"I'm sure removing it isn't all you want to do." Anna traced her finger along his jaw. "And since the stairwell is not the kind of place I want my daughter to find us in such a compromising position-"

"You'd want Katie-Anne to find us?"

"I want to keep in mind the possibility that there could be a time, in the future, when we forget to lock the door and the inevitable happens." Anna shook her head, "My point, however, is that I think we should keep our more salacious thoughts to ourselves for the moment."

"I'll save them for later."

"Good." Anna put her arm through his. "It'll age like fine wine."

"Then let's get dinner over with so we can drink it."

They walked to The Broken Broom, John helping Anna to one of the tables, and set about to ordering. Between the conversation, the food, and the few dances they shared to the slower music a few people begged the band to play, John could not suppress the bubble of joy that welled up in him. And just about the moment his hand covered hers and he prepared to ask her back home someone's hand slammed on their table.

Anna jumped and John immediately moved to block her as Green stood there. Their eyes met and John's hand tightened over his cane as Green snorted. "What a sight. The two of you out together on a night like this."

"There's no reason for unpleasantness." John stood, ushering Anna behind him. "We're just enjoying our dinner and ask that you leave us in peace."

"Peace?" Green snorted, "Like how you left me months ago when you convinced the constables that I was responsible for what happened to you."

"I don't use this cane for show." John ground his teeth together. "And I expect they'll find you here if you don't make yourself scarce."

Green scoffed, angling to see Anna around John's arm. "You can't tell me this old cripple makes you happy."

"It's none of your business of yes, he makes me very happy." Anna took John's free hand. "Let's pay the bill and be on our way."

"Right," Green snapped his fingers, bringing attention to the quiet of the room. "Because if you're out too long you might find another way to tarnish your shattered reputations."

"Like you care about our reputations."

"I care about the fact you're marrying a ruined woman when you had your pick of the eligible ladies of the island." Green pointed at Anna, "Might've left the trash for the rest of us."

"I'll warn you," John stepped toward Green, his knuckles white on his cane and ignoring the gentle tug on his arm from Anna. "Never insult Ms. Smith in my presence."

"Right, because you're so good and pure now." Green pointed in John's face. "I heard about you and Ms. Sadler."

"Ms. Sadler and I would like to keep our business to ourselves."

"Then maybe you should've taken a bit more care about that headboard." Green slapped his hands together. "It's not like the neighbors wanted to know about it all."

"You're drunk, Mr. Green, and you're not talking sense." John pointed to the door. "I'd suggest you go and find a hole where you can dry out and think about what you're saying."

"Or maybe you like ruined women. Makes it all better for you, doesn't it." Green laughed, "Because now you've got a growing collection of bastards since you couldn't stop sinking your cock in more than one hole. I wonder if you've already put one in Ms. Smith here and now you're-"

Whatever Green thought John might now be doing, the fist that crunched his nose into his face would not have been it. But the flail of Green's fists in return could not fend John off. The blinding shade of red that surrounded John blocked all from his vision but the chance to sink his fists into any exposed part of Green he could find.

The dull thud of his cane falling, the distant shouts and tugs on him, and the eventual sound of Anna's voice finally broke the berserker rage. John toppled backward, noting the blood on his knuckles and the broken skin immediately bruising there before he saw Green's face and body. The man curled on the floor, his eyes swelled shut as his nose grew large, and bruises covered ever part of his body he could see. An odd angle to one of his arms and the weird bend to a few fingers had John hurrying to his feet.

Every eye in the little place was on him as John turned in a small circle. A hand settled on his arm and he threw it off in a hurry, ready for the attack of an enemy. But it was no enemy, it was Anna.

Anna, who now looked at him as if he were a caged beast. An expression he could not bear to see again. To see now. He could not bear how she looked at him when he stepped toward her. Or the twinge of fear in her eyes as she bent down for his cane. To give to him? To use to defend herself again him?

Whatever the reason for it, John would not stay to find out. He tore from the room. Nothing and no one stopped him. Even Anna's voice could not stop him. No force on earth could hinder his escape until his leg seized near the fountain at the center of the town. He slumped sideways on the surface and sunk his bloodied knuckles in the water trying to wash his skin. But all he did was rub himself raw until his fingers flared red. Even then he persisted in trying to scrub his skin clean as if it could cleanse the dark, red feeling in his soul.

It took a few minutes to realize it would do nothing. Nothing could be done. That monster in the Broken Broom was nothing but a suppressed beast he knew from before. From a time he thought he buried. A monster not exorcised by rubbing his fingers raw in the frigid fountain.

Pulling his hands from the water, John buried his face in them. The cold water seared his face but he ignored it in the midst of his sobs. They racked his body as images of Green on the floor mixed with the images of the war. Each one flashed in sequence as pain flared all over his body as if his old wounds reopened with each memory of how he got them. But what ached worse than the reminders of the pain to his physical body were the faces. Each face representing a life he lost, took, or failed to save.

It took over everything and his perception skewed so horribly that when someone laid a hand on his shoulder he flailed out to defend himself. Slipping almost into the fountain, John caught himself and saw Anna standing in front of him with his cane. She held out her hands, not stepping away from him, and waited as John tried to stand. The seize in his leg stopped him and John hit the stone ledge of the fountain hard before tumbling to the ground.

Anna was at his side in a moment, assessing the damage as John tried to urge her away. She shook her head and fought him until she finally trapped his face between her hands. "No."

"I killed him." John's voice rasped, "He was on the floor and-"

"And Doctor Clarkson's seeing to him." Anna forced John's eyes to meet hers. "Under the watchful eyes of our constable."

"But I-" John held up his trembling hands and Anna surrendered her hold on his face to grip his hands instead. "I was sure I-"

"No, you didn't." She kissed over his hands. "He's badly injured but he'll recover. You didn't kill him."

"I thought I did. I thought I was back there and-" John shook himself and drew his legs up to his chest as his chest shook with sobs again. "I thought I was back to being that man I was in the war."

"What man?"

"The man who was all rage and fear and anger." John raised his head slightly to look at Anna. "That man frightens me and I thought I put him away after the war. I thought he was gone forever."

"I don't think that man'll ever be gone." Anna adjusted herself on her heels. "Those people, the ones we were before, they'll always be a part of us. We can't stop that. We can only learn to live with our demons."

"I lost myself tonight Anna." John took her hands, switching their hold. "What if I lose myself again? What if that happens again? What if I hurt you?"

"You," Anna waited until he could not look away from her. "You will never hurt me. You could never hurt me. That I know for certain."

"But tonight I-"

"You allowed a man to get under your skin in my defense."

"I thought…" John shook his head, "I saw how you looked at me."

"I was worried for you."

"I frightened you."

Anna paused, her face firming. "Yes, you did frighten me. It was frightening to watch the darkness that lies within someone rise up but it's not the only thing you are, John. It wasn't even who you were then."

"But I-"

"I'm not frightened away, John." She pressed forward, kissing his forehead with infinite tenderness. "I'm more in love with you now than I've ever been."

"How?" John held up his torn and bleeding hands. "How could you love me more now?"

"Because you stared into the abyss and never fell in." She kissed over his hands. "And you never will. I won't let you."

John barely comprehended their walk back to the bookshop. The stairs were nothing, even with the ache in his leg, and there was nothing but Anna. Nothing but her hold on him. Even the salve she applied to his injuries the growing soreness in his hands was nothing with her there.

She held his hands to her, their foreheads resting together, and took a breath. "I don't ever want you to be afraid of showing me who you are John."

"I didn't want you to know that part of me." He pulled back to look at her. "That's the part of me that went with Vera. The part of me that went to war. The part of me I wanted to leave behind after that night when Green attacked me."

"But it's still a part of you." Anna drew the backs of her fingers over his face. "That part of you is there, whether we like it or not, and we need to accept that."

"How can you?" He shivered, "When you saw what I did to the man in the alley who attacked you? Or to the men who attacked me? Or to Green, tonight?"

"Because I know the man you are isn't just that one. It's so many men wrapped in imperfections and struggles." Anna took a breath, "We've all got our darkness to fight, John, but you don't have to fight it alone."

"I don't want you to have to fight this fight."

"That's the best part." Anna kissed his cheek, "I'm fighting it with you. I can't lose with you at my side."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." Anna pulled him closer, "You'll never lose me John."

It was almost a dream. She stood up and let her dress fall to the floor. The dress, he realized, that was the only thing she wore. And when she leaned him back in the chair to loosen his belt and pull his trousers and pants out of the way, it was all he could do to even move.

"If I were afraid of you, if I thought there was even the slightest chance you would hurt me or Katie-Anne, I wouldn't be here now." She put her legs on either side of him. "And since I'm here now, we can assume I'm not afraid of you."

John could only nod and then groan when she hand wrapped around him. He gritted his teeth, fingers flaring in pain when he curved them around the base of the chair, and held still as she squeezed over him. But when she paused he raised his head to meet her eyes.

"I want you to say that you understand." She waited, "I want you to say that you know that I trust you. That I love you. And that you're not the monster you seem to believe you are."

"I understand."

"Good." Anna slid down him, her arms going around his neck as they settled together. "Then please love me like I know you can John."

John's fingers left the chair and his legs spread enough to give him the leverage and support he needed to drive deeply inside Anna. Her fingers scraped over his jacket and hurried to push it off his shoulders and onto the back of the chair. They struggled between their rocking motions to remove his clothes until the chair and floor were a war zone of shed clothes. But with the two of them exposed and close to one another, John could hold tightly to Anna as he sank into her.

He buried himself inside her. Buried his fears inside her. Buried his anger, pain, and troubles inside her. And they came together with their souls exposed to one another.

Their odd shuffle to her room sent shots of jagged pain up John's leg but he ignored them. Ignored them to lay Anna on her bed and kiss her from head to toe. Each of his kisses set him on fire and added to the twinges of pain from her nails scraping over his skin as she tried to pull him closer to her. But they turned to a fierce hold as his tongue and fingers delved inside her to suck the taste of them and her away until she cried out.

Heedless of the flat below them, John continued until Anna cried out again as the quiver in her body combined with the undulations strangling her walls around his fingers and tongue. Withdrawing from her, and taking time to suck her taste away, John returned to her body with his lips. No part of her was left unattended as he turned her to her stomach to kiss over her back and even toward her ass.

Her hand reached back and pulled him forward. John barely stopped himself falling on her as she turned her head to kiss him. Her words, hurried and breathless against his lips, sent another kind of shiver through him.

"Like this. Please."

John lifted one of her legs and slid into her, his chest pressing to her back as her nails dug new furrows in his thigh. Their motions stayed slow and contained until Anna pushed herself back into him. The ache in his leg throbbed dully but John ignored it to kiss over Anna's back as his hands grabbed at her hips. He held tightly and drove into her with speeds increasing in direct proportion to her cries for him to move faster or harder.

They came together in a rush and John only just managed to land on his left side as his right leg buckled. Their bodies slipped against one another as they lay together. Anna pulled one of John's arms around her and moved until he wrapped around her.

"You belong here, around me, and nowhere else." She kissed his hand. "I don't want you anywhere else."

"Where else could I go?" John tilted her face to look at him. "You're the one that took the weight of the world from my eyes."

"And I'll help you drive the darkness there away." Her hand held his cheek. "For better or for worse."

John kissed her, going deeper and deeper until he lost himself in her. Lost himself in the rising of her body as she twitched and writhed against him again. Lost himself in the feel of her breasts under his hands and the sounds of her moans in his ears. Lost himself in the scorching slickness she offered between her legs as she whimpered toward another climax. Lost himself in the sensation of her walls clinging to him in the velvet inferno they created between them. Lost himself in the cooling of their bodies as they drifted off to sleep afterward.

Utterly spent in body, mind, and soul. Utterly bound together. Utterly lost in the love Anna had for him. Utterly lost in the love he had for her.


	14. Thanks You for Your Tiny Spark

John checked himself in the mirror again, pulling the sad cravat loose to hand around his throat. "This is mad. I used to do these in my sleep."

"Too many years of doing up regular ties and you lose the skill." His mother motioned him towards her and fixed the tie. "And you're nervous."

"Is it that obvious?"

"A man not nervous on his wedding day is a fool." She finished and patted his chest. "And you, John Bates, are not that much of a fool."

"I was a fool to let Mary Crawley have any say at all in the proceedings." John sighed, checking his hair and cravat once more in the mirror. "If it were up to me it'd be a quiet affair in the Registry Office with you, me, Anna, and Katie-Anne."

"Anna deserves something to celebrate."

"She said she wanted a small wedding as well."

"What women say and what they mean are two completely different things." His mother took his arm and put his cane in his hand. "Anna needs something that makes her feel beautiful after all the ugliness in her life. Something that's all her own and that no one can ruin."

"I thought that was what the honeymoon was for." John grinned and then flinched under his mother's smack to his arm.

"That's when a woman wants to be adored. This is about having a day that's all yours." She sighed, "Do you know how rare a day like that is?"

"Since I'm a man, no." John escorted his mother to the door. "I'd best leave you to help the bride and make sure the church is shipshape and Bristol fashion."

"I'll settle for Guernsey fashion." His mother pushed him toward the stairs. "Make sure Branson's not going to drive that car like a madman when he comes for us later. I'll not have the work we put in ruined because he wants to take a corner on two wheels."

"I'll make sure." John kissed his mother's cheek. "I'll see you at the church."

With the cane clacking in time with his motions, John descended to the street. He reached the back door and opened it clapping. The frown of confusion did not last long as John exchanged his smile with Branson and the others waiting there.

"You're all going to draw attention to this."

"More than the skirt you're wearing?"

John pulled at the edge of his kilt. "This, I'll have you know, is how a Keith gets married."

"We're not in Scotland."

"And we're not at a racetrack to be making the kind of noise that gets the neighbors peeking out their windows at us."

"That's the point mate." Branson clapped his hand on John's shoulder. "It's an exciting time and you should be excited to have it. We're excited to share it with you and this kind of excitement can't be contained. Shouldn't be contained."

"I'd just rather we keep all the noise down or we might disturb my future bride." John pointed up toward the third floor. "I'd hate for her to get cold feet or anything if she hears all the noise."

"Anna Smith get cold feet?" Branson spluttered and forced John into the rear of the car. "You don't know anything."

"I guess not." John settled on the seat as Branson took the front. "Who are all the people you managed to get here?"

"Just a few friends. People always looking for a good reason to drink."

"Excuse to drink's more like it."

"Po-ta-to, Po-tah-to." Branson waved a hand and started the car.

"And my mother wanted to stress that she doesn't want you speeding around town when you go back for Anna." John shrugged, "Whatever effort they're putting into her hair'll be something to behold, apparently."

"Then you've not seen your bride?"

"Nope. After dinner last night my mother shuffled me back to our flat and I endured the night listening to the vague hints of chatter from the floor above me." John leaned his elbow on the door of the car. "It's a bit infuriating."

"Not sleeping with her the night before?"

"Not seeing her." John scowled at Branson. "I just… I want to know if she's as nervous as I am."

"Does it matter?"

"My mother said that any man not nervous on his wedding day is a fool."

"My mother would agree." Branson parked in front of the church and turned in his seat to look at John. "But, for all the nerves Anna's probably feeling, she loves you. Nothing'll take that away or make her change her mind."

"You're awfully sure."

"If whatever you did or didn't do that had Vera spreading some nasty suggestions about you didn't drive Anna away, nothing will."

John groaned, "I didn't do anything." His eyes met Branson's, "At least not in the way that she's saying."

"It's the risk you take mate." Branson pulled his lips back from his teeth to grimace. "But honestly, for as good looking as the woman is, what made you date someone so nasty?"

"I guess it was the kind of destruction I was looking for when I realized I couldn't have Anna." John opened the door to the car. "But now that I've got Anna, I intend to keep her."

"I'd hope so." Branson resettled himself in his seat as John came around the car. "She's worth every bit of effort you'd put into it."

"That's why I'm marrying her." John slapped his hand on the door. "Go and wait for them. And, remember-"

"No speeding around corners." Branson forced a salute. "I'll take care of your family Mr. Bates."

"I can't ask for more." John took a firmer hold on his cane and stepped out of the way as Branson pulled his car back to the street. They waved to one another before Branson drove back toward John's house, leaving John at the church. "I shouldn't ask for less either."

John shuffled into the church and whistled. Mary turned, from where she directed final preparations in the foyer, and snorted. "And you've not even seen the main event Mr. Bates."

"You think that this isn't the main event?"

"Please, Mr. Bates, the real attraction for your guests is the party afterward." Mary snapped her fingers at one of the altar boys and pointed to the flowers. "I did tell you which of those had gone off. Please remove them before the bride and the other guests come."

"Then what part of this affair is actually about me?"

"None of it, Mr. Bates." Mary shook her head at him, "It's not about you."

"None of it?"

Mary folded her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrow at him. "I'm not sure what delusional preconceptions you've approached this day holding, but you don't have any involvement in this day other than standing there and responding appropriately to your cues. There's nothing else required of you while this," Her finger circled in the air. "Is going on."

"You're very sure of that."

"I've been married before." Mary's face fell for a second before she recovered. "I know what jobs the prospective husband is supposed to provide."

"More than just my duties in the bedroom and the workplace, I'm guessing."

"Much more." Mary adjusted John's cravat slightly. "On days other than today, of course."

"I'll keep that in mind." John paused, "Although I'm curious why you're here instead of helping Anna get ready."

"I'd only make her nervous." Mary jerked her head toward the interior of the church. "And I'm much better keeping it all organized here as it's been a stretch since we've had a wedding here."

"Not many of those after the way?"

"You were here." Mary pulled at a piece of bunting and straightened it. "You should remember that you weren't often in this church."

"Excluding Sundays, you're right." John turned a slow circle, keeping his cane as a pivot, "You've outdone yourself here."

"It's a talent of mine, micromanaging and overindulging." Mary led John to the front of the church. "Soon it'll be filled with people wishing you their best."

"Filled?"

"Filled enough." Mary batted his potential argument down. "It's not about who's at your wedding. It's about you being at your wedding for that moment when the march plays and you look down the aisle to see your soon-to-be-wife approaching you."

John turned over his shoulder to look down the aisle and nodded. "It's the only moment I need."

"Then you're already focusing on what matters most." Mary patted his arm. "I'd sit down, while you wait."

"Why?"

"Because it'll keep your legs from shaking too badly until you actually have to stand." She pointed to the bench. "When Tom gets here, he'll be next to you and, if you need it, you can grab his arm for support."

"Will I need it?"

Mary shrugged, "I think Matthew used the arm of his best man when he married me."

"I could understand that particular fear." John met Mary's eyes when they widened. "Because you're slightly terrifying."

"It's true." She let her lips twitch toward a smile. "My husband also wondered if I'd even come. But that's the point, keep them guessing."

John paled slightly. "Excuse me."

"Anna won't do that to you." Mary shrugged, "Maybe."

"You're not being kind."

"I'll be honest," She grinned, "I do appreciate the way your face has turned to resemble a rather peculiar shade of milk white."

"Are you always this cruel?"

"Only when I'm trying to suppress my own worries." Mary shuddered, "I just keep wondering what else might happen to try and block Anna's happiness."

"You think something would?"

"Anna's life hasn't been fantastic and this is a moment of happiness that means…" She sighed, "That means that life will find a way to spit in her face again at the first opportunity."

"That's very pessimistic for her wedding."

"Which is why I'm telling you and not her." Mary closed in on John and he sat down on the bench as she loomed over him. "If you, in any way, cause Anna more pain that she's already experienced, I'll see to it personally that your life ends."

"You're threatening my life?"

"I've got friends with fishing boats, those who'll give me the alibis I need, and a lot of ocean where your body'll never be found." Mary straightened. "Although, I admit, there's not much chance of you doing anything to hurt Anna. You're so besotted with her it's a miracle you can even walk in a straight line today."

"I'm very motivated."

"I'll say." Mary turned as someone tapped her on the shoulder. "You wait here and I'll see to everything else."

"I could help if you-" John went to stand but her hand forced him back to his seat with a bump.

"No. Stay put and out of trouble. If I have to go looking for you we'll all be disappointed and very put out."

John sat back on the wooden bench, stretching his leg and massaging around the knee. It ruffled his kilt a moment and he held off, stretching his leg and counting in patterns like Sybil taught him during his therapy. And he was almost finished with a series of stretches when a weight knocked into his leg. He almost grimaced and then noticed the expression of fear on Katie-Anne's face.

"Come here." He opened his arms to her and she crawled up onto the bench next to him. "Keep running into things and you'll ruin your beautiful dress."

"Mummy says it's a special dress." Katie-Anne pulled out the edges of her pleated skirt to show John the satin, chiffon, and lace. "She says it's parts of the dress my grandmother wore on her wedding day and pieces of my baptismal dress."

"It's beautiful." John took a bit of the lace between his fingers. "Did your Mummy make it for you?"

"She and Mrs. Bates did." Katie-Anne frowned, "If she's your mummy and you're about to be my daddy, does that make her my Nan?"

"It most certainly does." Both John and Katie-Anne looked up as Mrs. Bates approached the bench, a slight frown tugging lines at the corners of her mouth. "And you're welcome to call me that from now on."

Katie-Anne beamed and giggled but John focused on his mother's face. "Is something the matter? I told Branson to handle the turns and-"

"It's nothing to do with Tom Branson."

"Then what's got-"

"Your fiancé would like a word with you." Mrs. Bates grimaced, "In private."

"Where is she?" John stood, holding fast to his cane, "I'll go right now."

"You most certainly will not." Mary swooped down on them as if she had been waiting for a moment of John's weakness to pounce. "It's bad luck and I won't allow a bit of bad luck to spoil this day for Anna."

"Then you'll come with me and keep my eyes covered." John shrugged, "Keeps a man honest and then you'll know I haven't seen the bride before the wedding so there's no bad luck to be had."

Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "What if she wants me to leave the room?"

"Then you'll have my word on…" John pointed at Katie-Anne, "On her. If I open my eyes then Katie-Anne'll get all the pony rides she wants for the rest of her life and I'll be the pony."

"Your knee won't forgive you for that." Mrs. Bates gruffed but shooed John away to take his seat and bring Katie-Anne to her lap. "But I'd take his word Mrs. Crawley. He's good for it."

Mary threw up her hands, "Why do I even bother trying to establish order where you're concerned Mr. Bates? You're like a bad penny that there's always something about you that tosses a spanner in the works."

"It's the nature of things." John swept this other hand forward. "After you."

They made an odd couple as they maneuvered through the arriving guests and back to the foyer. Mary shuffled them around a few people and toward one of the doors that flanked the entrance. Her knuckles rapped the door and Anna's voice echoed for them to enter. John traded places with Mary, putting his hand on the knob while her hands went over his eyes.

"This is ridiculous." She muttered but John opened the door and moved forward all the same.

His feet slid on the carpet, his steps small as he used his cane for support and a guide around possible obstacles. But delicate fingers settled over his free hand and guided him to a seat. John turned his hand in her grip to hold hers for a moment before bringing it to his lips to kiss the smooth skin at the back of it.

"It's good to know that Mary's always serving as my valiant defender."

"It's my duty, as your Maid of Honor-"

"Matron of Honor."

"We'll skip over that part. I'm far too old to not be a maid."

Anna's sigh gave John a little grin. "This is something I need to discuss with John alone. I can promise his eyes'll stay closed."

"But I can't guarantee that." Mary's fingers tightened around John's eyes, as if to keep them shut against invisible attempts to free him from her hold. "As your Maid of Honor-"

"Matron."

" _Maid_ of Honor," The grit in Mary's teeth practically vibrated down her arms to tremor through John's eyes. "In that capacity I'm here to ensure your wedding goes smoothly. That there is nothing to interrupt, disrupt, or otherwise impede this step in your overall happiness."

"And I couldn't possibly begin to express my gratitude for it but-"

"But nothing. If it's between you and bad luck I'll stay here and-"

"Mary," Anna's voice broke through the tirade and the air hung still a moment. "I'm going to speak to John alone. You'll leave the room and wait right outside the door. His eyes will remain shut and when we're finished you are more than welcome to come back in here and help him back to his seat."

"Am I now?"

"I promise you that the first time he will see me in this dress will be when I walk down the aisle toward him in less than half an hour." Another pass of silence pricked John's ears up before his eyes scrunched closed at the first slip of Mary's fingers from his eyes. "There, now please wait outside and make sure the other bridesmaids are ready. I worry that Tom and Sybil might've decided that the dancing should begin early."

"It's probably a good thing she's my father's favorite or he might've disowned her for even considering Tom's proposal, much less accepting it." Mary's shudder echoed through her hand swiping John's shoulder. "I've you to blame for that."

"Let people in love be in love." John argued and scooted to find a more comfortable position in his seat. "It does no one any harm."

"When it gives my father an ulcer and affects his blood pressure, I'd say it does." Mary's sigh engendered no pity but that of the put-upon, long-suffering individual bearing their martyr's cross with disdain. "I'll be just outside the door so I'll expect you both to remember that you've guests arriving."

"Yes Mary." Anna's fingers tangled with John's again and he latched onto them in the foreign room he could only smell and barely map with his entrance. "We won't be long."

"I'd hope not." The door snapped in its jamb and John went to speak.

"Anna, I know-"

But her lips descended on his and stopped whatever words he might have prepared in a second. The hand not holding tightly to his fingers held at his jaw to keep him in place, allowing Anna to control the kiss. A kiss she broke a second later before resting her forehead against John's.

"I've missed you."

"It was only a night, Anna." His other hand found her hand and traced over an arm partially encased in lace and chiffon to tease the tips of his fingers over her neck before thumbing at her cheekbone. "We'll have the rest of the nights of our lives together after today."

"I know." Her breath shuddered slightly, trembling against him. "I just…"

"You worried that it might all be a dream." John forced his eyelids tighter, avoiding the overwhelming desire to look at Anna. To meet her eyes. To let her know with one expression just how little she needed to worry.

"Yes." She shifted, her cheek going next to his and sliding their hands to one another's necks to hold there. "I worried that perhaps I'd imagined that this last year has been the happiest I've ever known."

"I've worried that every day since I walked into my mother's bookshop and saw you." John kissed her cheek. "I wish I could open my eyes and see you Anna. Let you know with how I look at you that this is the realest thing I've ever known and that nothing would stop me making sure this dream, if that's what it is, never ceases. That I'd never want anyone but you for the rest of my life. That you're the only woman I've ever lover and you make me whole."

"You make me whole too." She moved even closer, her legs shuffling her skirt to bunch between them. "You took the darkness from my eyes."

John's hands abandoned Anna's face and fingers to embrace her as close to him as he could manage without pulling her into his actual skin. They stayed locked in that embrace for a moment before John jerked. His brow furrowed and he jerked again before he fully comprehended what piqued his body's interest.

"I'm sorry." She breathed against his ear, her hand snaking between them to try and force his kilt up his thighs. "I've wanted you for days."

"Mary's right outside the door." John's eyelids fluttered but he fought the impulse and kept them closed.

"Then we'll have to be very quiet." Anna's dress rasped over his kilt and bare legs to leave him shivering while her hands pushed his legs apart until they hit the arms of the chair. "You first."

"What?" The words escaped on instinct before his hands gripped for the arms of the chairs. He knocked an elbow into the wood and almost slipped his cane from its perch but caught it just in time. When it settled under his fingers, and Anna's hands freed him from his kilt and manipulated his clothing to her satisfaction, John used it as his only anchor to the real world.

In other situations he might try to weave his fingers through Anna's hair or tease at her breasts, or even yank at the sheets of whichever bed they used but with his eyes closed, guests arriving, and Anna tucked under the folds of his kilt, John could only bite through his tongue. The pain focused his mind but then the pleasure of her hands and the taunt of her mouth too precedence. John tossed his head back and almost knocked himself a bruise when he hit the wood of the chair. But his grunt of pain earned him the full engulf of Anna's mouth.

His jaw clenched so hard that colors flashed behind his eyelids and John had to force his jaw apart. The effort of suppressing the sounds Anna tried to drag out of him with the same motions she used to arouse him further thumped in his chest. And, when she decided to lick herself a pattern over every part of him, John thwacked his knee hard against the wood of the chair.

"Anna." He hissed out, his body suffering an overload of sensations. "Please?"

Her hands and mouth left him, both blessing and torture, but the rustle of her skirts meant that the next moment the prologue of her mouth on him washed away in the suffocatingly scorching clutch of her walls around him. A minute shuffle and she took him deeper, gripping him harder, and holding him tighter. The few seconds they allowed between them as they accustomed themselves to the most basic unity were not enough to gain control over their emotions.

They were only enough to ignite a fire.

John's hands left the arms of the chair to find Anna's bare legs. He ran them under the satin material of her skirt to try and find where they managed to pull her knickers away but found nothing. A little giggle reverberated against his neck as Anna trailed her lips there while setting a gyrating roll between them.

"I wondered if I should tell you, before we started, that I conveniently forgot my knickers today."

"Is that all you forgot?"

"No." Anna nipped at the back of his jaw, her fingers finding the back of his neck to spear through the hair there but staying as conscious as he of their appearance otherwise. "I think I might've forgotten my brassiere as well but you'll have to confirm that."

"Not now." He moaned into her neck, his fingers tightening on her hips under her dress to meet her motions with thrusts powered by his feet firmly planted on the floor. "I'll discover it later, more slowly, in the privacy of our rented room."

"Then, for now, you'll have to imagine."

"I'm already imagining." John whispered into her ear and slowed, his fingers dragging across her sparking clit to build them back up with excruciating patience. "I've got my eyes closed so I've got to imagine that gleam you get in your eye when you're in control."

"But you're in control now John."

"Am I?" He growled before darting a tongue out to lick at her ear. "I seem to remember someone taking me in her mouth just moments ago."

"But now you're-"

"Following your lead." John let his kisses trail the column of her throat until he learned the dimension of her collar where it hung halfway to her shoulders. "Do as you will Anna. I'm your willing servant."

"Are you?"

John ran his cheek against hers to find her lips. "To the end of my days."

She kissed him, rocking her hips against him while keeping his hand trapped. Trapped so she could rub and press against him to leave herself crying out against the skin of is neck. John wrapped his other arm as carefully around her dress as he could manage to keep her in place as she came.

The fluttering clutch of her walls sent John toward his end but he continued to follow Anna's cues. When she took his lips with hers again, determined and careful, he increased his speed. A race to the finish that left them both gasping into each other's mouths.

"What else did you imagine?" Anna's fingers trailed lightly toward his cravat and John laughed before kissing her jaw.

"Now you're just fishing for compliments."

"I'm curious." Her fingers continued their butterfly steps over his face. "With your eyes closed I can focus on the details of your face."

"What did you see?"

"I asked first." Anna warned, her finger tapping his nose.

"I imagine that blush you get over her neck and down to your breast. That light red of your cheeks when you're determined and chasing your pleasure. The glorious sight of you wet and wanting me. And," John pulled her closer to growl in her ear. "How you'd look sinking over me."

"I wish you'd opened your eyes."

"No," John shook his head. "I'm true to my word."

"I know and I love you for it." Her hands covered his cheeks. "I watched the lines in your forehead crease and then fade. Your focus and dedication. Your peerless affection for me."

"You got all that from lines on my face?"

"From so much more than that." She kissed him again before extricating herself from the tangle they made together. "I think we'd best get to our actual wedding before they have to wait much longer for us."

"It's rather bad form that way." John used his hand to correct the rucked up nature of his kilt and attempted to stand on his own. "I am curious about something, if we've got a moment to ask about it."

"About?"

"You're not wearing knickers…" John rolled his jaw, "Might that have something to do with a Scottish tradition?"

"Your mother told me you'd be wearing the tartan of her family and I thought I'd add what little of the tradition as I could to my attire."

"You'd look beautiful in a kilt."

"Unfortunately for the both of us, I've not got a reason to wear one." She took his hand and guided him back to the door. "But I will wear yours."

John swallowed and forced his eyes to shut tighter again. "You can be eve more evil than Mary."

"We learned from the same place." Anna warned and kissed John's cheek before opening the door. "Could you sneak him back to the front through the side of the church?"

"What? Need some fresh air to make sure he doesn't carry a whiff of what I know happened in here?" Mary's hand clapped over John's eyes and she maneuvered around him as if they were dance partners. "I can recognize a smell."

"I'm sure you can." Anna shut the door and John pried Mary's hand from his face to finally open his eyes.

"Shall we?"

Mary grumbled her consent.

They managed to get back into position, Mary making a show of fussing with John's cravat and coat in the wings before patting him on the chest and dashing back to the back of the church. He worked his way to the seat where Branson waited for him and hooked his cane over the end of the pew. Branson leaned around to flick at John's hair and then pursed his lips.

"Cutting it rather close there."

"Anna needed to talk to me."

"I'm sure there was a lot of _talking_ going on." Branson snorted. "But it'll all be over soon and you can enjoy it as much as you both want."

"I don't want it to be over soon." John started as the music started to play and Branson helped him stand so they could take positions at the front of the church to see the first bridesmaid come down the aisle. "I want to enjoy every minute of this."

He basked in the sight of the bridesmaids walking down the aisle. In their lovely, homemade dresses he saw in church on Sunday. His eyes crinkled to match his smile when Katie-Anne walked down the aisle with his mother, both of them spreading the petals over the walk. And he all the air left his lungs when he saw Anna appear at the door on the arm of Robert Crawley.

Even knowing the tactile identity of her dress, it was a different thing entirely to see Anna in it. The satin of the skirt caught the light and bent it where it would so it was as if Anna walked through liquid white. The lace of her sleeves started at her elbows and wrapped over her skin to her shoulders before the satin of the bodice peeked through. Rounded edges of the sweeping piece brought John's mind to less than half-an-hour before when he kissed along that line. If he squinted, he dared to wonder if the faint red marks covered by powder were from his lips.

Their eyes met and John wondered if breathing were even necessary. Why would anyone need to breathe when they just stare at someone as beautiful as Anna. She filled every inch of the room with light and dragged each cell in his body toward bursting with the energy she gave him. And when they stood less than a foot apart and Robert Crawley gave her hands to his, John finally managed a breath.

"Hello." He whispered and Anna gave a little giggle.

"Hello."

"You look beautiful." John's fingers itched to take the veil from her face but convention kept it where it was. "I… I've not got the words."

"We'll find them together."

They pivoted together and faced the parish pastor. He raised his hands to the group and John heard the collective shuffle of bodies taking their seats. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of John Bates and Anna Smith. Let us now, begin with a prayer."

It all blurred a bit. The lines memorized in the dark of the night, written, rewritten, crossed out, edited, spoken aloud, and finally committed to memory came in a steady stutter that only left both he and Anna in tears. The rings slid home on the intended fingers, the metal of the bands glinting in the light filling the church. And when John could finally lift the veil, he kissed Anna with all the passion their current circumstances would allow.

He could not even hear the applause.


	15. He Could Not See Where to Go

John collected the key to the room and offered Anna his left arm so they could ascend the stairs together. She giggled with him as they matched pace up the stairs. "I like this."

"That we're married?"

"That we can walk in line with each other." Anna drew her finger in the air as if tracing over his legs. "Otherwise you'd outpace me in a heartbeat."

"Your legs are long."

"Not as long as yours." She put her hand from her forehead and drew it across to his shoulder. "I'm almost a foot shorter than you."

"It doesn't stop you." John took her hand and kissed it. "Not for a moment."

"If you're about to make a comment about your leg stopping you, I'll have you know that you suited me just fine before the ceremony."

The self-satisfied smile on her face hitched John's gait. "I'm still in shock that you did that. We were in a church."

"And I shortly made a commitment to honor my husband." Anna shrugged, "I thought I honored him rather thoroughly."

"You, Mrs. Bates, are incorrigible."

Anna shivered and shut her eyes as they stopped outside the door. "Please say that again."

John frowned for a moment, "That you're incorrigible?"

"No," She took his hands with hers, opening her eyes to look in his. "The part where you said my name."

He beamed at her, bending slightly to put their lips together. "Mrs. Bates."

Another shiver went through her body. "I love how that sounds."

"I love how it sounds on you." John kissed her before drawing back to extract the key from his pocket. "Now, to the first part of our honeymoon."

"Katie-Anne was so jealous you were taking me to a hotel." Anna put her right hand in John's left and held herself tightly to his left arm. "She's always wanted to stay in one."

"She'll be a bit put out then when I tell her that we'll be staying with my cousins when we're in Ireland and not a hotel then either."

"In that case she just wants to go somewhere new." Anna laughed, "We could have her sleep in a barn and she'd think that was an adventure."

"Well," John pushed the door open with his right arm. "In other circumstances I'd sweep you off your feet and carry you over the threshold of our home but since our home is two flats no less than two stories off the ground and my leg won't let me carry you a step, we'll have to suffice with this."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and spun them for a second so she moved over the threshold of the hotel room first. "Now you get to invite me in."

"Because you're a vampire?"

"Because once I'm over the line of this doorway," John leaned forward, his hands on either side of the doorjamb to hold himself there, "I'm not going to stop trying to seduce you until I'm inside you and you're screaming."

Anna's hands grabbed at his lapels and dragged him over the threshold.

He practically tripped into the room, his cane knocking loudly against the doorjamb, but managed to kick the door shut before Anna pressed him against it. Her lips landed on his faster than he could fathom and her hand snatched the edge of his kilt to whip it up toward his belt. In less than a minute John's eyes scrunched closed to force air into his lungs at the passion of Anna's hand wrapped over him.

The cane clattered to the floor and John's fingers worried the lock into place before he could finally fill his lungs. Breath rattled in his chest as he heaved gulps of it in time with Anna's easy strokes over him. Each one squeezed a touch harder or added a bit more of a twitch with her wrist until John's fingers dug into the paint on the door behind him.

Anna's lips found his again and John worked one hand into the hair at the base of her neck. The intricate braids and curls covering her head were of little importance to him as he sought to work the texture over his fingers. They turned together and slanted their mouths to take more of the other with their lips and tongues batting at teeth for taste. Tastes they groaned to receive.

There were hints of chocolate there, from the cake they delicately fed one another as their friends watched. The sweet tang of the champagne Mary provided as her gift to the proceedings that had left John's mother with a dreamy smile as she danced with Katie-Anne. Or even the salt from their dinner.

None of it covered the taste of Anna and John sought for it while his fingers continued lightly tugging her hair free of its confining strictures. His other hand bumped into hers as they blindly sought the pins in her hair. Nothing would break their kiss so they made do with the pins they could find and let them scatter over the top of the small table in the entryway of their little hotel.

Enough of her hair now bounced off her shoulders for John to weave with his fingers as they changed directions on their kiss. A quick step and Anna's back hit the wall next to the door, sending her hand stuttering on his erection. John seized her hand, pressed a fiery kiss to her wrist, and put both of her hands on his shoulders as he rucked up the satin of her skirt. Her eyes met his when he could finally see her and John's growl translated back to him at Anna's tremor in response.

"It's glorious." One of his fingers delicately traced over her, dragging through the shine already gathering on her skin.

"What is?" Anna's fingers dragged at the shoulders of his morning coat as if digging in to find a semblance of control.

"The sight of you wet and wanting me."

Anna's hands clawed at John's back to bring their lips together again and she squeaked into his mouth as John hoisted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his hips and John edged carefully to position himself along her. They shifted and slid together, John running himself along her as Anna moaned into his mouth, and then fit together.

John's hand hit the wall, his head resting on her shoulder as he broke the kiss to try and find air. Her chest pressed into his, her hands yanking at his jacket and shirt to try and hold herself closer to him, and the heaviness of their breathing filled the air between them. It took them a moment as they shifted so their eyes met but once they did John kissed Anna.

She broke away to whisper in his ear, "Make me scream John."

He drew back and drove forward until he could move no further. Anna's nails raked over his shirt and the material of her dress and his kilt scratched over their hips. The rasp and rustle only forced John's fingers to dig deeper into Anna's skin and push harder against her. Fabric rustled and compressed between them but the sounds coming from Anna drown out all other noise. Nothing was more important to him.

Her hands framed his face and forced them together, her tongue sucking deeply on his as if to distract him from her fingers moving to rake through his hair. John used it to spur him forward, thrusting harder and ignoring the twinge of an ache in his knee. All that mattered was their moment and John risked a hand from her hip to move between them.

His fingers caught in the satin of her dress but he pressed anyway. It slicked and slid over Anna's clit as John maneuvered to bring her over the edge. In moments she tore herself away from him to cry out his name to echo over the confined space and John finished a second later.

Every nerve in his body quivered but John dug his heels into the floor to keep himself standing upright and holding Anna to the wall. Her chest pressed into his as she dragged deep breaths to fill her lungs and John joined her in the act. Eventually the thunder of their heartbeats slowed and John could look at Anna.

His hand brushed her hair from her face and kissed her lightly on the lips. "That's just the beginning."

"Is it?" Anna smiled weakly, her fingers uncurling from his jacket as her legs unfolded to support her own weight. "Probably best I get out of my dress then. I think it's a bit… ruined."

"I was actually hoping we could keep it so Katie-Anne could wear it one day." John let his hands caress the lace piece and the satin bodice down to Anna's hips as the skirt floated toward the floor. "But perhaps we'll make a few alterations to it."

"Especially given how we've used it." Anna grinned at him before turning slowly to show John her back. "If you wouldn't mind?"

"I do mind." John kissed the back of her neck and helped Anna turn back to face him. "Because this is not where I undress you."

"Oh no?" Anna made a show of looking around. "It looks like our hotel room."

"Yes, but we're still in the foyer."

"I apologize for not being able to keep my hands off you." Anna ducked to snatch John's cane from the floor before he could attempt a bend to retrieve it for himself. "But I'd gladly do it again."

"I would too." John took the cane and nodded toward the main room. "But after you've seen what we'll enjoy for the next day or so."

"Or so?"

"It depends on when Katie-Anne gets desperate to have us back." John clipped his steps short so Anna could take in the full scope of the room. "We're all at her whim you know."

"Don't I just?" Anna walked the length of the smaller room and stopped at the large bed. "Is this the main attraction?"

"It's definitely one of the finer perks of the room." John stalked toward her, hooking his cane on the footboard. "I can undress you now."

Anna walked toward him and turned around so she faced the far wall. John's fingers, trembling slightly, started on the buttons. Each one eased away to expose the expanse of her back. And no matter how many times she saw it, John's hands could not stop from running over it.

He placed a kiss at the base of her back, right above where the parting of the fabric dipped toward the tempting suggestion of her ass, and glided his hands back up to help her push the lace three-quarter sleeves from her arms. They caught slightly at her wrists but John helped pull them both free so Anna stood with her entire chest exposed.

John ran his fingers and hands all over her back before bringing them around to stroke her stomach, teasing a finger toward her still pulsing clit, and then back up to her breasts. His chest pressed to her back as he massaged and kneaded the skin there. Anna's head came back, resting on his shoulder, and he kissed at her neck to glory in the rapid beat of her pulse against his lips.

One hand remained at her breasts, to continue his adoring fascination with her skin, and the other helped ease the fabric from her shimmying hips. The dress dropped in a pool at her feet and John released Anna's breasts to wonder at the sight of her naked body before him. She turned, leaning back so her hands grasped the footboard and it pulled her body in an extended pose, and let her mouth stretch into a leering smile.

"See anything you like, Mr. Bates?"

"I see a great many things I like." John moved forward again, his hands sneaking from her hips to her ass to press her firmly against him. "But one thing I love above all else."

Anna kissed him hard and then squealed as John helped her onto the bed over the footboard. She flailed a moment, her arms going out to catch herself, but John kept his eyes on her as he removed his jacket. A momentary dip retrieved her dress and draped it over the back of a chair before his coat joined it. His cravat and shirt went next, the cuffs only stopping him for a moment, and then he toed off his shoes.

When he grimaced, the angle pulling at a muscle in his knee, Anna made to move forward. John held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head and then sighing as he straightened his stance. "Just have to take my shoes off a different way in the future."

"Or not at all." Anna laughed, lying back so her head sunk slightly in the pillows. "These are like clouds."

"Only the best for you." John put his hands on his kilt as he unpinned the material holding the sash over his shoulder. He attached the pin to his belt as the sash fell to the floor. Anna's eyes stayed locked on his as John finally loosened the belt and the blue-lined, green fabric fell to the ground.

"A true Scot." Anna breathed, one of her legs bending and John's mouth going dry at the sight of her fingers inching toward where she glistened for him. "As promised, you're one for tradition."

"I was surprised you followed it." John carefully managed his crawl over the footboard to kneel on the end of the bed. His hand wrapped over the ankle of Anna's still extended leg. "And now I've got a promise to keep."

"Which one?"

"The part where I'm going to seduce you." John raised her leg to kiss from her ankle to her knee. "And you'll scream again."

"Will I?" Anna's fingers curled in the case of the pillow.

"Yes." John ran his tongue around the inside of her thigh before nipping at the delicate skin there. "Because when will we get another chance to have this?"

"With your mother and a little girl about?" Anna laughed and then hissed as John moved down her bent leg to carefully kiss random patterns around her skin. "Probably never again."

"Then it's best if you let yourself enjoy it."

"And what else do you need from me?" Anna breathed and John paused, his fingers playing around her skin.

Their eyes met and John caught the darkening in her eyes when he gave her his answer. "Just lay back and don't quiet yourself because I want to hear you."

He worked over her legs and back to the crux where she shone and threatened to drip. John solved the problem by licking a stripe up her. The flavor exploded over his tongue and he searched for more as Anna's legs parted and she cried out. His fingers spread her folds open to better drag his tongue along her in both darting motions and flat, broad strokes. She squirmed and sobbed and whined until finally, with a whimpering moan, she came.

John continued tasting her through the quivers of her climax and finally pulled away to track his way higher. He paid special care to her clit, swirling and sucking there until another shudder ran through her body as a rolling orgasm passed through her. His fingers continued their slow exploration until he reached her breasts.

There John attended to every sound she made until her hips bucked against him. With his tongue rolling around one of her nipples and a hand kneading the flesh of her other breast, John moved his fingers to answer Anna's motions. He slid them inside her and worked them in crooking motions until she shattered under him again. Her breathless cries had John taking her mouth in a kiss she dug into as if to take any traces of her taste away from him.

But she could not keep connected to his lips when he entered her again. They slid together easily as her slick entrance guided his way. John sank to the very depths of her and sucked hard under her chin when Anna's legs moved higher to take him even deeper. Deep enough that John's hand held as firmly at her ass as she held at his to better control the depth of his long, slow strokes.

An angle of her hips had each of his thrusts rubbing along her clit and a hitch in his motions let him strike the spot inside her that had Anna arching back and writhing uncontrollably under him. His breaths resembled snorts through his nostrils and then heavy gasps through his mouth until her vaginal walls clamped around him.

The tight grip of her sent him into spasms. He drove harder, frenzied in his need for pleasure, and almost mindless of anything else. As if at a distance he heard the catches in her breathing that signaled her end closing in and his hand abandoned her ass for her clit. His other wrapped around the back of her neck and he kissed her as they came.

John sagged, his head hitting the pillow at an odd angle as he tried not to press his weight into Anna. But she widened her legs slightly to allow him to fall on her and John sank into her for a moment. When he went to move, wondering if he had crushed her, Anna's arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him to her.

"Not yet." She whispered and kissed next to his ear. "I want to feel this."

"Feel what?" John whispered back, easing out of her and making a note to leave some kind of gratuity for the maid staff who would be cleaning this room in the near future.

"The weight of my husband." Her fingers traced the lines of his bones and muscles through his skin. "I've never…"

John raised his head and noticed Anna blinking furiously as if to keep the temptation of tears away. He ran his thumb along the underside of her eyes to catch the traces of tears there before cradling her face for a delicate kiss. He turned them on their sides and pulled her close.

"I've never had it either." His lips ghosted over her hair and then pressed to her forehead. "I rather like the weight of my wife in my arms."

"I like the feel of this husband in mine." She sniffed, trickles of tears running over John's chest but he said nothing. "It wasn't like this before. I want to remember this because then I won't ever have to remember any of that again."

"Do you… still?"

"Sometimes." Anna raised her head, shaking it at what John guessed was the hint of fear in his eyes. "Never with you. But sometimes, especially before… I'd remember what it was like to have to share a bed with him and to…"

She closed her eyes and hauled in a shaking breath. "I don't ever want that again. I want to only remember you."

"I'll only remember you." John tickled the pads of his fingers down her arm. "But, if you do remember him, it's alright."

"Is it?"

"Of course." John shrugged, "You've seen the kind of person I become when I remember things that happened to be before. They're all a part of us and that's just the reality of the situation. It's not pretty and it's not desirable but those are the card we were dealt."

"As simple as that?"

"Yes." John smiled, "But now we get to share our hands and if those cards ever resurface we'll just hold one another tighter."

"That's almost too much for one person to carry."

"Which is why we're going to carry it together." John settled next to Anna. "Would you like to rest for a bit?"

"Would you?"

"You've rather had your way with me." John winked at her and laughed with Anna as she swatted at his chest.

"I promise you, Mr. Bates," She trilled, leaning toward his ear. "When I 'have my way with you', it'll be under very different circumstances."

"Will it?" John took a deep breath, "Color me intrigued."

"I thought you were tired."

"I am but…"

"Shhh," Anna put her finger over John's lips. "Rest for now. You'll need your strength for when I really do have my way with you."

John closed his eyes and rested with Anna in his arms. Rested perhaps too deeply for when he did wake up again Anna was gone. The darkness in the room, except for the wink of two lights in the corner, had him blinking furiously to try and find where Anna sunk off to while he slept.

But he need not have worried. A second later her mouth wrapped around him and John tossed his head back into the pillow so hard it cracked his neck. He hissed through his teeth as his chest tightened and grabbed at the pillow under his head to try and ground himself to reality. But the swirl of her tongue over him forced his eyes closed and his jaw to clench so hard he worried he might crack teeth.

When he finally gained control of himself, at least in the sense that he would not ruin himself or buck Anna from her position straddling his legs, he finally opened his eyes. They locked on Anna's and she took him even deeper to swallow. John whimpered and his chest rose and fell so quickly he worried it could cave in completely and never recover. Whatever pity Anna had, however, was enough that she left him with a finally suckling motion to kiss at the tip.

She sat up and John noticed his kilt wrapped around her. It hung and bunched but John's hips jerked in response to her wearing the colors of his family. Colors that ran over his skin when she rose onto her knees and sank down over her.

"I believe," Her voice broke through his reverie and he tried to latch onto her words. "You imagined the sight of me sinking down on you earlier."

"Yes." He breathed, his voice getting thicker in his throat as everything but simply staring grew too difficult. "Heavens yes."

"Then," Anna wrapped the kilt higher so her hips and center were exposed as she rocked and slipped over him. "Enjoy the view John."

"Mrs. Bates," John swallowed hard, his hands itching to hold at her legs. "You're taking advantage of me."

"I told you," Anna rose and fell, grinding down to take him to the hilt inside her. "You'd know when I was having my way with you."

"Because you like having me at your mercy." John whispered and grunted when Anna's hand reached behind her to caress his sack. "It's… It's too good Anna. I'm… I can't hold back."

"Who said I wanted you to hold back?" Anna pushed herself to the very edge, his erection barely inside her. "I want to watch you come Mr. Bates."

When she sank back down, thrusting herself so hard John was sure they bruised one another, John came. His fingers dug into her hips and ass and any part of her body he could reach. He tried to keep his eyes open to appreciate the way Anna rode his orgasm to stimulate her own. But the sight of her taking him in her mouth, of his kilt wrapped around her body, of her sliding over him, and the reality of this goddess taking her pleasure from him without fear of the past was too much.

He blinked himself back to life, trying to reorient himself with reality, and could only recognize the weight on his chest was Anna. Her head settled just below his shoulder and her legs twined between his. Shifting them slightly, John pulled at the kilt and wrapped it over them both to keep them warm as he dozed off again.

Until light shined in his eyes.

John shifted and tried to move his arm. Anna grumbled, rolling off it while taking his kilt with her. It wrapped around her body but left her back exposed. A mischievous smile took over John's face and leaned forward to kiss over the swath of smooth skin available to him but that moved his arm.

The arm that was still asleep.

His arm tingled and bent as John tried to command its function. But all that did was slap John in the face with his own hand. He blinked at the sensation and barely stopped himself sliding off the edge of the bed in surprise. His other arm, the one still awake, flailed to keep him on the bed and wrapped tightly in the duvet.

Gritting his teeth and hoping for the best, John rolled toward his good arm. He managed to stay on the bed and Anna barely snuffled to herself as she continued sleeping. With a sigh, John moved off the bed and padded around the room while trying to get blood flowing back into his arm.

Eventually his fingers tingled themselves to life and John risked a trip to the loo before sliding back onto the bed. Anna's position had not changed, her body curling into a fetal position as she nestled in his kilt. A sight that had John running his finger along the line of her available skin before retracing those same steps with his lips.

Anna murmured something and her legs extended slightly. John dipped his hands under the kilt and moved it from Anna's body so he could see more of her. She shivered and then moaned when his hands wrapped around her thighs. They tickled up her skin until Anna finally turned her head to see John.

He kissed her and slotted her back to his chest so he could draw her leg back over his hip. Anna's hand covered his and guided him between his legs as she continued their kiss. They moved slowly, both shifting and hissing when sore muscles or sensitive skin sent shivers through them.

The movements ran John's arousal along Anna's ass and she rubbed back against him, pressing further as she cried out at the work of their hands. When John's thumb flicked at her clit, Anna came with a keen that brought John to thrust into her. They cried out together and moved quickly to chase the high they both frenetically sought.

John shuddered and finished, Anna's cries helping set him off. They held at one another, tremors and quivering moving them together, and slowly disentangled themselves. Anna took the crumpled kilt and held it out to John.

"In case we want to try sleeping again."

"If you put that on again, I promise that we won't be sleeping." John checked the time. "And we should probably think about getting ready to see people."

"It's true." Anna sat up. "We do have a real honeymoon to get to."

"That's true." John sat up as well, holding himself up on one arm. "I can't wait to show you Ireland."


	16. If You Did Not Twinkle So

John held Katie-Anne in his left arm as his right kept his cane slotted on the stairs to descend the plane. Anna trailed him, her hand extending behind her to hold Mrs. Bates's hand, and then joined them on the tarmac. John almost put Katie-Anne on the ground but she held tighter to him.

"Darling," Anna put her hand on Katie-Anne's back, "You have to let go of John eventually."

"If I let go then I might get lost."

"I don't think she liked the plane much." John patted Katie-Anne's back, holding her close. "She'll be alright."

"I don't want you to carry her if your leg might be acting up." Anna flicked her eyes toward his cane. "That plane couldn't have been good for your knee."

"It'll be alright until we get to the hotel." John adjusted Katie-Anne slightly. "We just need to find a cab and then we'll get her to bed."

"Traveling's exhausting." Mrs. Bates agreed, taking her bag and turning over her shoulder toward the collection of gathered luggage. "Should I get a trolley?"

"Probably best." Anna put her hand on John's arm. "Stay here and we'll get our bags."

"Feels a little off." John shrugged but a weight settled on his shoulder. "But I don't think I should move. She's falling asleep."

"I'm not sleeping." Katie-Anne complained in a heavy voice before her head nestled more carefully on John's shoulder. "I'm not tired at all."

Anna pushed out her bottom lip but John nodded her onward. In less than fifteen minutes, Katie-Anne snored on John's shoulder and her hot breath puffed against his neck. John rocked them back and forth until Anna and Mrs. Bates joined them again, pushing the trolleys, to find a cab.

Together they weaved through the little airport and found themselves a cab where they could squeeze into it with John and Anna in the rear while Mrs. Bates took the passenger seat. She provided the address of the hotel as John held Katie-Anne tightly to him.

They wove through the streets of Dublin and Anna kept her left hand intertwined with John's right, his thumb running over her rings, while she stared out the window. Mrs. Bates's voice provided a steady stream of conversation in Gaelic with the driver until they reached their destination. A destination that had John's legs feeling a little leaden.

Anna held his hand and directed the bellboy taking their bags while Mrs. Bates checked them in and retrieved the keys to their rooms. "I think we're all about as tired as Katie-Anne is."

"I don't remember planes being that exhausting." John sighed, "Then again, I was usually on one ready to jump out and land somewhere behind enemy lines so my blood was rushing in my ears."

"What were you doing, before the war?"

"I worked in London." John shrugged, "In a printer's office making books."

"And you never wanted to go back?"

"I thought about going back."

"And?"

"Once I returned to the army and then joined the SOE I had no reason to go back." John managed the stairs carefully, to keep Katie-Anne steady. "It wasn't…"

"Wasn't what?" Anna steadied him as they wrapped another set of stairs to the third floor.

"It wasn't my life anymore." John stopped at the top, his arm shaking slightly. "I couldn't go back to what I had because it wasn't what I was. I'd changed so much in the war that going back would make me feel like a fraud. Like I was trying to take back a life that wasn't mine any longer."

"I know a little about that." Anna followed Mrs. Bates into their room and then took Katie-Anne from John's arm so he could sit in one of the chairs. "Get off your feet for a bit."

"And here I was, hoping I'd impressed you."

"You didn't need to hold Katie-Anne for that long to impress me." Anna surveyed the sitting room and the bedrooms. "I think she'll be with us."

"I don't mind." John leaned forward in the chair to get a look at the bed. "It's big enough for the two of us and her. She's nothing but a feather."

"Charmer." Anna clicked her tongue against her teeth and moved into the bedroom with the larger of the beds.

John rested back against the chair and extended his legs to try and stretch out the pull in them. His mother finished at the door and took the chair opposite his, dropping into it with sigh. "You've done an incredible job with this selection."

"A friend of mine from my unit recommended it." John rolled his shoulders back to try and take all the weight from his body. "It's the first time I could ever take up anyone on their offers for after the war."

"This is the first time you decided to do anything with any suggestions they had?" Mrs. Bates chuckled, leaning her chin on her hand. "You never wanted to do anything else with any advice you were given?"

"This was the best piece of advice I was given and the rest of it…" John winced, "It wasn't exactly the kind of advice you should really follow."

"The kind of advice that suggest more alcohol and prostitutes than you should probably follow?"

"About that kind." John turned when Anna joined them in the room. "Is she down?"

"She was asleep on your shoulder and then took to the bed like it's hers." Anna sank onto the sofa, snorting to herself. "It'll be difficult to share the bed with her with she's spread herself like a starfish over the whole surface."

"You don't think we can fold ourselves around that?" John winked at Anna and she only shook her head and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa.

"Part of me is tempted to just fall asleep here."

"Your neck won't forgive you." Mrs. Bates pushed herself out of her chair. "And when you get to my age you'll look back on all the times you thought a little pain wouldn't be a bother and realize you were very wrong."

"Like when you spent ten pounds ten years ago and then, when you're short, you wonder if that was a wise purchase." John rested his finger against his temple. "This is one of those yes?"

His mother glared at him. "I don't take kindly to your sass, John Bates, and I don't care how old you are or why we're here. Be it for a family holiday or for your honeymoon."

"I'll keep that in mind." John waited for his mother to go into her room before turning to Anna. "In other circumstances I might be willing to suggest we do something a little more indecent out here but-"

"You're also exhausted?" Anna sighed, "I think all I could manage would be a slow shuffle and maybe a cuddle."

"It's not a horrible idea." John pointed toward their bedroom. "Can we cuddle with our little starfish between us?"

Anna's mouth pulled into a smile and John raised an eyebrow at her. "What's that for?"

"I can't smile at my husband?"

"Not when you look like you want to eat me alive." John shifted in his chair as Anna pushed herself off her seat and crossed the short distance between them to straddle John's lap. "Or when you do this."

"Don't you want this?"

"I do, always, but you said you were tired and…" John paused, narrowing his eyes. "What brought this on?"

"You called her 'our starfish'."

"She's been 'ours' since I signed those papers months ago." John took Anna's left hand with his and kissed near her rings. "It's just official now."

"It was official then." Anna crooked her fingers between his, rocking on his lap and edging herself closer to grind on him. "You're the most perfect man I could ever have managed to find."

"I still wonder if you stumbled over me on accident." John breathed, moving with Anna and working his left hand to her blouse and skirt to open them both. "I couldn't have been worthy of you if I worked for the rest of my life doing only good things and wanting only the best for everyone."

"You did… everything you needed to do." Anna's eyes closed when John's finger ran along her, dragging inside the material of her knickers. "Whatever it was, it was enough."

"You're enough." John bent his head forward, kissing gently around Anna's neck as he inserted first one, and then a second finger. "You've always been enough."

Anna keened as the metal of John's ring ran cold against her skin but kept her left hand locked tightly with his right to give herself the leverage her other hand abandoned when she went to open John's belt and trousers. It was like the tryst in the bookstore, more than a month ago, where they fought time and possible interruption. But now they fought to keep quiet as their lips met, separated, and traced skin beading with sweat from their exertions.

John's fingers crooked inside Anna a moment before her muscles fluttered and tightened to strangle them. If there was any blood left in the digits at all then it did not matter a second later as Anna sought a new point of leverage. Her hand clamped hard on his erection and dragged herself closer to him. They fumbled and fidgeted until they could get clothing and material out of the way for Anna to sink down on John.

He heaved a sigh, kissing at the dip in her open blouse to trace the brassiere she wore. "This is my favorite way."

"Why?" Anna breathed into his hair, stroking him closer and pressing her chest toward his mouth when he teethed her breasts through her brassiere.

"Because it means my ethereal wife," John raised his head for a moment, the bite of her rings on his finger nothing when he could lose himself in her blue eyes, "My peerless, beautiful, goddess of a wife, can find the pleasure she wants and take it from me before giving me the back some."

"You make me sound quite the glutton for you."

"I'm a glutton for you." John started his kisses again, "If I had no impediments in my leg, I'd have you nowhere but a bed softer than clouds so we could have each other all day and all night."

"We'd never get anything done." Anna giggled slightly before biting down on her cry as John hitched inside her with quickening strokes.

"It wouldn't matter." His fingers trailed back to her nerves, swirling and pressing them to help bring her out of herself. "I'd be right where I belong."

"You'll be the death of me." Anna wrenched his head from her breasts, where he left wet traces and indentations all over the material there.

"But what a way to go." He grinned and then kissed her as Anna came again, taking him with her.

They settled, sweat sticking to their clothes and recognizing the mess between them. John chuckled and brushed a few of Anna's errant hairs from her face. She turned her face to kiss his palm before opening her mouth to speak.

But she never got the words out.

They both jumped when Mrs. Bates's voice, stern with a hint of mirth on the end of it, broke through their silence. "I do hope you plan on taking a bath before you try and sleep. And it'd be best if you didn't do that sort of thing in the sitting room here again."

John and Anna giggled into one another. He sighed into her neck before lifting to face her again. "Remind me why we brought my mother along."

"Because," Anna kissed the tip of his nose and began the extraction process. "She's not been to Ireland for some time and we might need her to take Katie-Anne for a few hours if we want time alone."

"Something we could've avoided if we'd decided to leave them with my cousins." John sorted himself a stood, grabbing for his cane.

"Just because it's our honeymoon doesn't mean we need a lot of time alone." Anna drew closer, drawing her finger along his collar. "We've already had all of those times together so it's not like we need to 'get used to each other'."

John grinned, "We could still get used to each other."

"Too bad I'm already used to you then." Anna glanced toward the room and sighed, "Time to move the starfish."

"Maybe she just wants a cuddle." John slid past Anna. "Our little starfish wants to sleep with something she can cuddle."

"Try saying that when she kicks you in the shin."

John cringed, "She kicks?"

"And sometimes bites." Anna wagged her finger at him, "I warned you."

They stayed at the hotel for only another day before they rented a car for John to drive them out into the country. Katie-Anne sat in the back, with Anna, and constantly threw out her little arm to point to something or crow about what she saw or even to just gasp in awe at the expanse around them. John caught sight, in the rearview mirror, of Anna's arm wrapped continuously around the little girl's waist to make sure she did not get any ideas and decide to explore if she could fly out of the car to investigate the distant intrigues.

But they managed to weave into the countryside without too many worries and John guided the car to a little church on a hill. They pulled to a stop and Anna was out of the back as fast as Katie-Anne could force her, chasing the girl up the little hill to investigate the church. John eased out of the car a bit more slowly, maneuvering to stretch himself and work the kinks out of his knee. When he eventually rounded the car he took his mother's hand and they walked up the path to the church but rounded it for the cemetery on the other side of the hill.

"Your father refused to be buried on English soil." His mother gruffed, sighing. "Made it bloody difficult to work out how to get him home when he finally snuffed it in the front of our little shop in London."

"I remember." John grinned as he watched Katie-Anne darting down the hill toward them. "But we got him here in the end."

"And buried him with his family." John's mother stopped, standing next to a grave. "He wants me buried here."

"Do you want to be somewhere else?"

Mrs. Bates shrugged, "It's hard to know. Where will any of us be when that happens and is it even fair to beg it of you when you've got your own family to worry over now."

"Would it've been different before?" John frowned and then opened his arm hand to hold Katie-Anne to his knee when she ran into his good leg.

"When you didn't have this little sprite dancing around your legs or that lovely fairy-woman you married then I could've commanded you to do whatever I wanted you to." Mrs. Bates tapped the side of her nose before winking at the giggling Katie-Anne. "Mothers can do that to their sons."

"But not to their daughters?" Anna asked, a bit breathless as she joined them.

"No. Sons are for doting on their mothers. Daughters are for teaching women that their mothers were right." Mrs. Bates sighed, turning back to the grave. "And I couldn't ask John work to get me back here just take up space in the ground here instead of on Guernsey."

"Ground is ground, is that it?" John hoisted Katie-Anne into his arms as Anna moved to stand next to his mother.

"It's more…" Mrs. Bates shook her head. "I'm an old woman and these aren't concerns for the young."

"Please," Anna took her hand, holding it gently. "If it's a concern to you, it's a concern to us. We want to know."

Mrs. Bates patted her hand back. "It's more that I'm not sure where I belong anymore. Choosing a place to rest used to be easy when you lived and died within the same ten-mile radius. But my husband moved us to England and that was home until he died. Then I moved to Guernsey and you've all made that home. So now…"

"You're not sure where 'home' is because it's wherever we are and that could change." Anna finished and Mrs. Bates nodded.

"That's exactly it." She tugged a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "This is the first time I've visited this grave since I buried him here. What'll it be when it's me?"

"You won't be forgotten." Anna slid her hand over Mrs. Bates's shoulder. "You've got your bookstore, John, and now us."

Mrs. Bates nodded and then put her hand over Anna's on her shoulder. "And perhaps soon another little Bates?"

"Perhaps." Anna smiled, winking at John, and reaching for Katie-Anne. "Should we give you both a minute here?"

"It's a family matter." Mrs. Bates stepped to the side so Anna could slot herself between she and John. "And it should be handled by family."

"Who is it?" Katie-Anne held onto her mother and leaned over to try and read the weathered stone. "What is it?"

"It's a gravestone, sweetheart." Anna kissed her cheek and pointed at it. "That's John's father."

"You don't have a father either?" Katie-Anne twisted in Anna's arms to look at John. "You're just like me."

"Except you have a father." Anna drew her finger down the end of Katie-Anne's nose and then rubbed her nose against hers. "And that's your Grandpa."

Katie-Anne wiggled herself out of Anna's arms and hurried away for a moment. John used his cane to try and pivot but Katie-Anne was back with a handful of scrawny, scraggly flowers that she laid over the grave. Her little fingers landed on her lips and she kissed them before tapping the gravestone.

"There you go Grandpa. Sleep well."

Anna dipped to pick Katie-Anne up again and kissed her cheek while brushing her curly hair back. "That was very kind of you."

"It was for Daddy's daddy." Katie-Anne looked at John. "Do you miss him?"

"I do." John kissed Katie-Anne's forehead. "But not as much as I used to."

"Why not?"

"Because it's been a long time." John shrugged, "You feel sad but you realize that it's not all there is to feel anymore."

Katie-Anne frowned, "But if you died I'd miss you."

"I should hope so." John stroked over her cheek. "But not forever. Nothing lasts forever."

"Except how much you love me."

John smiled, "Except that."

"John," Mrs. Bates spoke and he maneuvered to look at his mother. "I'd like to be buried here. When the time comes, I want to rest here, next to your father."

"Yes ma'am." John took a breath, "Let's go meet the rest of the family. They'll be waiting for us and wondering what's taking me so long."

"Probably going to think you forgot where they live." Mrs. Bates took John's offered arm and Anna kept on his right side. "They'll take the mickey."

"They were already going to take the mickey for my accent."

"What accent?" Katie-Anne turned to him. "You talk like me."

"But not like them." John shook his head, "You'll hear it."

As John predicted, his cousins teased him mercilessly for his accent, for presumably forgetting where they lived, and for his daughter that didn't understand a word they said. Katie-Anne quickly ingratiated herself with the other children when she talked about living on an island as well and working like a grownup for money she earned and proceeded to show them until they all clamored about their parents' legs for chances to work like her. Anna kept herself to John and Mrs. Bates's side, keeping quiet about details of herself.

John wove his fingers between hers during a pause in the conversations and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Are you alright?"

"I don't want to say anything that might contradict what we've said." Anna nodded toward Katie-Anne in the corner. "She's told them all you're her father and I don't want them asking too many questions."

"This isn't like England, Anna."

"It doesn't mean they won't look down on a 'Jerry-bag'." Anna patted his hand but kept her fingers intertwined with his. "I'm alright."

"Why don't you and I go for a picnic tomorrow?" John jerked his head toward his mother. "She wants to go into the village and see some of the sights. My cousins are going with her and Katie-Anne'll have more fun with the children."

"Do you have spot in mind?"

"I might." John sat back. "It'll be lovely, I promise."

They drove out early the next morning, both of them kissing a sleepy Katie-Anne on the forehead before she buried herself back in the pile of pillows and blankets that was the mass of children all holed up in the cottage. John and Anna extracted themselves from the others sleeping over the floor, furniture, or on mats they spread over the ground. But when they got into the car, breathing freely for the first time in hours, they relaxed and drove away.

The track took them to a small lake with an old man and woman that ran a boat shack that raised Anna's eyebrows. Thankfully the boat itself was in good condition so John rowed them to the island at the middle of the lake. With the picnic basket in hand and the boat pulled up onto the rocks, they trekked to the center of the little wood on the island to spread out the blanket.

"I'm a little nervous." Anna admitted as she took her seat, pulling her knees toward her chest. "I keep expecting to accidently step into a fairy circle and then have to bargain away my unborn child."

"Not your already-born child?" John eased himself next to her, stretching out his length to finally give his twinging leg the space it needed to extend.

"You're not supposed to have favorites but I've met Katie-Anne and whatever unborn child they'd ask I haven't met." John frowned at her and Anna leaned over to kiss him. "Don't worry, I'm not pregnant."

"You're sure?"

"I was before we came here." Anna leaned back on her elbows as John turned onto his side, running a finger over her arm. "I had my monthlies just before the wedding so I know we're not having a wedding night baby."

"You're sure?"

"It's not an exact science of timing but I'm relatively sure."

"Probably for the best." John shifted closer to her, kissing at the exposed skin on her neck. "I'd hate to think we wouldn't have enough time to get used to-"

"You're insufferable." Anna tried to push him away but John rolled her under him. "I said it once and now you can't get over it."

"I thought it was an interesting way to say it." John bent his head, kissing over her neck again and up to her ear. "But we're all alone here so if you wanted to get used to me here then I'd welcome that."

"You're the one seducing me." Anna's neck arched back and she sighed when John's hand molded her breast through her blouse. "And if you're determined then I won't stop you."

"Good." John's fingers fumbled slightly with her buttons but opened her blouse enough to give him access to her chest. "Because I've another question for you, if you're willing."

"Possibly." Anna laid back more fully, spreading her legs more when John helped open her skirt. "What's the question?"

"Do you want to have another child?"

Anna stopped, her eyes opening and meeting his. John paused, his hands on either side of Anna's side to hold himself above her. Despite the awkward way it bent his back and put his hips to the ground to stretch out his back the way he watched some of the elderly in India bend and stretch, John kept himself there to wait for Anna's response.

She put a hand to his cheek, her eyes edging with tears. "Of course. There's nothing I want more than for us to have a child together."

"Then we'd best get started." John opened her brassiere to gain complete access to her breasts, "It might take time and I'm committed to the cause."

"I'll never argue with a soldier on a mission."

"Best not to." John grinned against her skin and took her nipple in his mouth.

Their clothing rumpled and wrinkled as they only shoved what they needed to out of the way. John's cane and trousers formed the base of a pile that slowly increased as they exposed one another. Anna's bare legs curled around John's naked hips to pull him closer so she could run herself along the length of him. They both groaned at the sensation and John tossed his shirt away to try and rain affection over Anna's abdomen.

His lips sucked and swirled over her folds. Their slick surface coated his tongue so he could dig it deeper into her. Anna's stockings rasped against John's ears when she curled them over John's shoulders to bring him closer with more than just the hand planted on his skull. The dig of her nails guided him as the depth of her dig ran proportionally to the depth of his tongue and fingers inside her. And she only released him when he helped her release.

Her legs quivered against him and John took the moments her eyelids fluttered to finish removing their clothing. There, naked together for the first time since their wedding night, John slid himself forward. They held and clutched together with tiny movements that settled them as perfectly together as they could be until John drew to the edge and thrust back.

The motion he sought forced his hips to piston into Anna. Her nails raked down his back to his sides and dug divots into his ass. John occupied himself with kissing her breasts between the swift, hard thrusts between them so he trembled at the edge of her womb. Each draw to the edge was like peeling away another layer until they were just shuddering bodies joining and rutting together with incoherent words and sounds. Sounds that guided John's lips to Anna's neck breasts, and face while her hands ran through the hair on his chest or her lips tried to trace his patterns over her skin on his.

They came together. Louder, perhaps, than they should when they were exposed in the open, but much louder than they had ever been allowed to be. Settled together on the blanket, John wrapped Anna in his arms and ran his fingers through her disheveled hair until they could both speak. He kissed her forehead and pushed himself up to nod toward the basket.

"Hungry?"

"Famished." Anna pushed herself up as well, reaching for John's shirt and wrapping herself in it as he dug in the basket. "Although it might not be for food if you continue as you are."

John looked down, a flush of heat in his cheeks quickly dissipating as he met Anna's eyes. "Mrs. Bates, I think you need to control yourself."

"Says the man who just took me on this blanket on an island in the middle of a lake." Anna took the offered sandwich and bottle. "Beer?"

"I thought it might fight our environs."

"How racy of you Mr. Bates."

John pointed to his nude self and laid back, "I am racy."

"No need to convince me." Anna laughed, opening her bottle. "But I need to ask you a question."

"What is it?"

Anna shifted to sit facing John. "Your mother."

"You mean what she said yesterday at the cemetery?"

"Yes." Anna nodded and then shrugged, "What if we moved here?"

"You want to live in Ireland?"

"I think it'd give her some peace."

John sat up, "We've got a bookstore and a flat on Guernsey."

"Which we can have here." Anna sighed, "Part of the reason I wanted to move to London, a year ago, was to have a new life. To live free of the stigmas and history of everything that was back on Guernsey."

"I know."

"And that was when it was just Katie-Anne and I." Anna took John's hand. "You're not free of your demons there either. Maybe we could all use the fresh start a move like this would offer."

John laid back, staring up at the trees above him before speaking again. "It won't be peaceful here. We're in Dublin and it's not like the British and the Irish are good friends. You'll face a degree of persecution here that might make it difficult for us to make a life."

"We'd face that anywhere." Anna sipped from her bottle. "But it's something to consider as we're building a new home."

"It'd leave Green behind." John snorted, sitting back up. "I wouldn't mind leaving him far behind."

"Neither would I." Anna set her bottle to the side and brought her legs up so John could run his hands over them. "It would make it more difficult for our agreement with Vera."

"We could ask Mary if she'd mediate that." John chuckled, "Not that she'd love that but…"

"But she'd do it." Anna held up her bottle again and John took his. "To a possible future in Ireland?"

"To a possible future in Ireland." John clinked his bottle against hers.

They fed each other from the basket until Anna accidently missed John's mouth with a bit of cake it and dropped a dollop of cream on his chest. He went to wipe it off but Anna snuck forward too fast and licked over the spot. When she finished, she did not pull away.

Instead she pressed him back to the blanket and set to work kissing and caressing his chest. John's hands were not idle either and soon his shirt fluttered away from Anna's body. His hands and lips showered affection over her while Anna attempted to return the favor with as much enthusiasm as John exhibited. Soon they gasped and clutched at one another when Anna sank down to ride him.

Slow, rolling motions turned to rocking gyrations that dissolved into frantic bobbing and bouncing that eventually had John's hands gripping hard at her hips and ass to try and find leverage to thrust deeply into her. Their mouths crashed together or left kisses on other parts of accessible skin until Anna's fingers moved where she needed attentions. John could only watch as she moved, noting the way he shined with her slickness, and then reveled in the sight of Anna's orgasm. One he quickly followed with his own.

They lay there, Anna slumped over John's chest, until he could move. He turned to kiss Anna's cheek and shifted to help her move. "We'd best get back or they'll think we abandoned them."

"Must we?" Anna lifted herself, hands on his chest. "We could have them believe we were taken by the fairies."

"I've already been taken by a fairy." John sat up, kissing Anna on the lips and reaching for a few napkins to clean them as best he could. "They won't believe that I managed to get myself another one."

"Fine." Anna maneuvered herself off John, wincing slightly. "But I insist, if we're going to keep having to sneak around with one another like we did before we were married, could we manage to find an actually bed? My knees won't take another awkward position."

"Neither will my back." John eased into his trousers. "But what a place to sneak away for a morning tryst."

"It's certainly magical." Anna buttoned her blouse. "Not the kind of magic I'd tell Katie-Anne about but magic all the same."

John sighed, watching Anna, and let his thumb turn his wedding ring on his finger. "Very magical."


	17. For You Never Shut Your Eye

John checked the list again and tapped the top of the pile. "These are the books you ordered, according to the receipt I have here Mrs. Shackleton."

"I don't…" She sighed, "Was it the list I had in my hand?"

"I don't know. I think you were talking with my mother." John pulled out a pad. "Tell me which ones you'd like to exchange and I'll see what I can do about it."

"It was-"

"John!" He pivoted quickly to see Branson running up the street toward him, grimacing when the motion pulled at his knee. "John you've got to come quickly."

"Is something wrong with Anna?" He held up a hand to Mrs. Shackleton. "Is it my mother or Katie-Anne?"

"It's Vera. She's at her flat and the neighbors heard something crash." Branson finally noted Mrs. Shackleton, "I'll take care of this and get the truck back to your mother's."

"Fine. Send another car to me." John paused, counting dates. "It could be she's having her baby."

He hurried up the block, taking the stairs to Vera's flat and pounding on the door. "Vera? Vera open up it's John." A neighboring woman stuck her head out the door and John turned to her. "Did you hear-"

"She's been moaning off and on for the last twenty minutes. Disturbed my cats something fierce and now they won't stop hissing."

"Thank you." John managed before shaking his head and stepping back a pace to mutter to himself. "I don't care about your bloody cats."

Risking the second it would take, he stood on his right leg and brought his left leg up to stomp near the handle on the door. It cracked and John stumbled back into the wall behind him. Taking a breath, and holding his knee as it burned, he took position again and smashed through the door. The latch broke and the door swung inward, the doorjamb splintered and hanging in pieces.

John worked inside, limping more than usually and wearing an indentation into his palm from the cane handle he gripped hard with his whitening knuckles. A quick survey of the sitting room showed no signs but a moaning from the washroom had him stumping in that direction. He pushed open the door and tried not to shudder at the sight of Vera, shivering body lying in a pool of urine on the floor.

He gagged slightly and stuffed his handkerchief into his nostrils to try and block the smell. A smell less nitrite and flatter. Something about it piqued John's worries and he hurried from the room to find the phone on Vera's wall. In his haste he almost knocked it clean off but he managed to save the phone and slotted his finger into the necessary holes to pull it over and dial.

The buzz on the end of it stripped away at his fraying nerves so he gasped in relief when someone answered. "I need a flying squad to Sadler Avenue. It's at the Cameron House, number 2010. Please hurry, we've a pregnant woman and think something's wrong."

He waited for the confirmation before hanging up the phone and hurrying back to Vera. John tried to help her up, stripping her out of her soaked clothing and working her into the tub to try and rinse her off. His hand brushed her abdomen and he jerked back when something moved against him. In that moment he could see it, the imprint of a foot pressing against the skin, and John grabbed the side of the tub to stop himself falling over.

It was almost alien as it pressed against Vera's stomach in what John assumed was the attempt to escape. His heart beat faster and he wondered if there was any time at all. The fear and panic rose in him, only exacerbated when Vera's wet hand, dripping from the water he sluiced over her, grabbed his shirt.

"Where were you? I thought we were having dinner ages ago."

"Dinner?" John pointed toward the window. "It's not even noon, Vera."

"We were going to have dinner. You told me we were. Said that it'd be just you and I. That next week I'd meet your mother."

"What?" John tried to move Vera from the tub, to wrap her in a towel. That was when he noticed her ankles. "When did your ankles swell like this? Did you twist them?"

Vera opened her mouth as if to answer but just vomited forward. John missed it but happenstance but then had to rinse it off Vera's body. She held at her head, moaning as he finished, and started muttering incomprehensible sentences as John helped her out of the bathroom and into a robe. "We only just met. I shouldn't have you in my flat. It's not appropriate."

"Vera it's not-"

"Where is she?" John let out an audible sigh as the squad entered the flat, Sybil with them, and rushed to Vera's side. "Is she-"

"She was sick all over herself and," John yanked the handkerchief out of his nose. "There was urine all over the floor. It smelled… odd."

One of the men raised his eyebrow at John while Sybil hurried into the bathroom to check. When she returned, her face was grave. "It's preeclampsia."

"Hurry!" The man called to another in the hall and they lifted Vera onto a stretcher to carry her away.

John tried to follow them, his leg seizing and cramping as he got down the steps. Sybil stopped him, a hand to his chest, and held him back. "There's no room in the squad. You'll have to get Tom to take you."

"Is she…" John fought for breath past his racing heart. "Is she going to be alright? She was babbling like we'd only just met or we were courting. And her ankles are swollen so she might've turned one when she fell and-"

"She's got preeclampsia, John." Sybil swung her head toward the squad and then faced him. "It's serious and… We're going to do everything we can for them."

Before John could say anything else, Sybil was in the cab of the squad and it whirred down the road.

Whether it was a second or an eternity, John soon found himself in the cab of his truck, Branson taking corners fast and close to get them to the hospital. He dropped John at the door, a distant promise to come back as soon as he could, but John could not hear him. Already inside, he worked down the few corridors to the ward for new mothers.

But Vera was not there.

Doctor Clarkson hurried past, working into a smock and accompanying another doctor with dark hair, and barely spared John a glance before they both vanished. John slumped onto a bench, his leg finally giving out, and massaged it almost absentmindedly as he waited. And he continued to massage his leg until a hand rested on his.

John looked up and sighed as Anna took space on the seat next to him, taking his hand in hers to massage it. He finally noted the stiffness there, and in his leg, and tried to shift. "When did you-"

"You've been here for almost two hours John." Anna set his hand between them. "Have they told you anything?"

He shook his head, "Sybil said something about preeclampsia at Vera's flat but I don't know what that means or-"

"It means that the birth'll be very complicated." Anna sighed, "They worried I almost had it when Katie-Anne was born but she came out perfectly."

"I think she was already in labor when…" John held up his hand, staring at it. "I touched the baby, Anna."

"What?"

"When I was getting Vera into the tub, to try and clean her up before the ambulance arrived, I brushed over her abdomen and it…" John showed her his hand, as if the footprint was still there. "It pressed into my hand. It was alive."

"They're going to do everything they can John." Anna scooted closer to him. "It'll be alright."

He nodded and held her close as they waited.

In another hour Doctor Clarkson emerged, pulling off his stained smock, and they stood. John leaned on his cane and Anna immediately moved to his side to steady him as Doctor Clarkson approached them. The man's hair and mustache were as white as ever but rumpled and disheveled from his long battle in operating theater.

"Mr. Bates, I think you'd better come with me." He glanced at Anna, "And Mrs. Bates, if she's up for it."

They followed Doctor Clarkson and donned the borrowed smocks and face masks to enter the room. Anna clutched at John's arm at the sight of the blood-stained smocks of the nurses and other doctor in the room. He guided them forward to the table where Vera lay, breathing shallowly and with a rasping cough.

"She's unconscious and we're hoping she stays that way." Doctor Clarkson stood on the other side of the table. "It was a very difficult delivery and-"

"The baby?" John asked and noted the flash of indecision on Doctor Clarkson's face. "Legally it's my-"

"The baby delivered just fine, Mr. Bates. A healthy baby boy. Good length, good weight, and a wicked scream so he's got a good set of lungs on him."

"Then what-"

"She was preeclamptic and the delivery was very difficult for her. Unfortunately we got her too late to try a cesarean delivery and the strain sent Ms. Doyle into shock. We don't think she'll ever wake up."

"And if she doesn't?"

Doctor Clarkson shrugged, "We don't know."

John went to move but fingers latched around his wrist. He staggered and only Anna's support kept him from falling. Vera's fingers loosened as she spoke.

"John?"

He looked to Anna, who nodded, and bent his head. "I'm here, Vera."

"Did the baby…"

"The baby's safe and well. Quite a screamer, so I'm told."

"Good." She stuttered a breath and shuddered on the table. "Best thing I ever did. The only good thing I-"

Her back arched, her chest seized, and she struggled to breathe. John and Anna were pushed back toward the wall as the doctors and nurses sprung into action. But within a moment the ashen face of Vera Doyle lay on the table and breathed no longer.

John and Anna made it to the corridor before they slid onto a bench. Anna's fingers trembled on her lap, quivering in time with the tremors of her body, and John covered them with his own to calm her. The sight of the dead, watching someone die, struck her so hard she could not speak. And when the doors to the surgery opened, she jumped and cried out.

"Sorry about that." Doctor Clarkson held up a hand to them. "It was… distressing, I'm sure, to watch that."

Anna could only nod and John tucked her to his chest while addressing Doctor Clarkson. "Where's the baby?"

"Baby Doyle's in the care unit." Doctor Clarkson beckoned them to follow. "He's this way."

They followed them, both John and Anna's gaits hampered. He by his injury and she by her shock. But they both arrived in the nursery and Doctor Clarkson led them across the tiny room to where Sybil stood next to a small cradle.

"Oh good." Sybil beamed at them, "He's a beautiful little thing."

She stepped to the side and John's mouth fell open. In the cradle, already with a swath of curling black hair, lay a brown baby. His legs kicked and his hands moved tightly but his eyes were shut and his tiny mouth scrunched in sleep. Anna stepped to the side of the cradle and managed a little laugh.

"He is beautiful." Her finger caressed down the baby's cheek and his eyes opened, large brown orbs staring up at Anna. "Such lovely eyes."

"It's what I wanted to say in the surgery but…" Doctor Clarkson motioned towards the baby. "He may have some kind of legal bond to you, Mr. Bates, but he's obviously not your baby."

"I don't know." Anna dipped her head to more closely examine the baby. "He's got your eyes John."

John bent his head to try and get a look at the baby's eyes and when they met he could barely swallow. All he could do was murmur, "You're right."

"Mrs. Bates, as… kind, as I think you want to be to this poor orphan, he's not Mr. Bates's son. Whatever chicanery Ms. Doyle used to strongarm him into thinking this would be his baby was-"

"Completely correct." Anna pointed at the baby and looked at Sybil. "Could I hold him?"

"Of course." Sybil pulled a blanket from below the cradle and wrapped it over the baby before placing him in Anna's arms. "I think he likes you."

"I should hope so." Anna settled him close, rocking him. "I'm his mummy."

"Mrs. Bates, you're not his mother."

"I'm the father and my wife, by default, is the mother of that child." John looked at Anna, "What do you think for a name?"

"I like Aiden, always have." Anna ran her fingers through the hair. "He'll have magnificent curls."

"Sybil," John turned to her, "His name's Aiden Doyle Bates. If you could write that on his birth certificate then we can file it as soon as you've written it up."

"Mr. Bates I really must protest. This is insanity." Doctor Clarkson pointed at John and then Anna. "You're not the biological parents of that child and even if the legal statement has you as the father, Mrs. Bates is not the mother."

"People adopt babies all the time." Anna took a breath, smiling as Aiden's fingers curled over hers. "He's got my husband's eyes, Doctor Clarkson, and that's all I need to tell me that this is his son."

"And his color doesn't bother you?"

"Should it?" Anna shrugged, "My daughter's half German and that doesn't bother John. Why should the color of his son bother me?"

"Mrs. Bates I-"

"No," John stepped in the way, blocking Doctor Clarkson's next argument. "We're taking him home with us because he's ours. I've a legal document claiming my paternal rights to this child and I'll rely on that. In a moment I'll sign the birth certificate stating I'm the father and that Vera Doyle was the mother. In due course we'll file whatever other paperwork we need to so Anna's his mother. But as of right now, I'm leaving this hospital with my son Aiden."

Doctor Clarkson filled his chest to speak and then let it deflate with a defeated sigh. His eyes closed as he ground his fingers to knead at his eyeballs before looking at both of them again. "What if his father comes? And I mean his real father, the biological one?"

John stole a glance at Aiden, sleeping in Anna's arms. "I've got a feeling he won't. He probably doesn't even know the boy exists and if Vera were alive perhaps she could tell us who he is but since she's not…" John shrugged, "We're the only family he's got, Doctor Clarkson."

Doctor Clarkson snorted, "He could do far worse than the two of you. And, at the moment, I doubt he'll do much better."

Anna wrapped Aiden closer to her, "I think he'll do just fine."

They took Aiden from hospital two days later, the same day they could release Vera's body to the mortuary. John accompanied the body and Anna took Aiden home. Katie-Anne, excited to meet her baby brother, stared at him for a full minute before finally speaking.

"He's black."

"Technically," Anna lifted Aiden clear of the cradle as John prepared the bag of his things. "He's brown."

"How'd he get that way?"

"His father was probably brown as well."

Katie-Anne frowned and looked at John. "But he's not brown."

Anna laughed, holding Aiden close and extending her other arm for John to loop the bag over her shoulder. "John's his father the way he's your father."

"Because we want him to be?"

"Exactly right." John kissed Katie-Anne's nose. "Now promise you'll be good for your mother and not make too much noise. Your brother's got to sleep a lot since he's so small."

"I'll be extra quiet." She put her finger to her lips and made as if to silently stalk around on tip-toe. "Like a cat."

"Perfect." John turned to Anna, "Will you be alright?"

"The first time I did this I was all alone." Anna kissed the top of Aiden's head and then John. "This time I've got you. I'll be fine."

"Good."

She put her hand on his, "Will you be alright?"

John sighed and nodded, "Much as it pains me to say, I'm the only thing close to family she had here. Or had at all." He flicked his fingers across hers. "I know it's awkward and inconvenient and-"

"And it's you being noble and honorable." She kissed his cheek, "Both of which are qualities I love about you, in case you were worried."

"I'll be home later."

"And then we'll go and clear out her flat." Anna shifted Aiden. "But he needs a lie-down and then a feed so I should get him home."

"Travel safely." John leveled a finger at Katie-Anne and put on a stern face that she mimicked. "And you'll help your mother?"

She saluted, "Yes sir."

"Good girl." He kissed her cheek and patted her back. "Go on."

They left the hospital and John met the mortician with his car outside the delivery doors. Shaking the man's hand, John sighed. "Thank you for coming Mr. Mason."

"It's what I'm here for Mr. Bates." He nodded toward the doors, "Any ideas for what you'd like me to do for Ms. Doyle?"

"None at all." John shook his head, "I've not got details on what exactly she wanted as far as a funeral but I'll take your best guesses in that arena."

"Not buried anyone have you?"

"Not since I was a young boy." John watched as the nurses rolled out the stretcher with the makeshift box on it. "And I didn't expect to attend this one."

"It's always sad when we lose those we love."

John nodded, muttering to himself. "And even more sad when we lost those we didn't love at all."

They rode to the mortuary and John examined the options for he caskets and coffins before settling on one made with Irish wood. He chose the interior lining and provided the dress for Vera's burial clothes. Mr. Mason examined everything and nodded. "I'll get her all made up and you can bury her by day after tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mr. Mason."

"It's the simple things that make the most difference in this business." Mr. Mason shook his hand, "But she'll be all ready."

John could only nod and swallow.

An action he repeated frequently as he and Anna set to work on Vera's flat. Her clothing went into donation boxes and her books added to crates John readied and inventoried for his mother's shop. They only ran into one interruption, when a woman with a permanent squint entered the flat through the still-broken door.

"Already filching through her things like vultures are you?"

"We don't look anything like vultures, Miss…" John frowned, turning to Anna but she shook her head in confusion.

"Missus," The woman emphasized, moving into the room. "Mrs. Angela Bartlett. Friend of Vera's."

"Then perhaps you'd like to know that the funeral's scheduled for day after tomorrow." Anna folded her arms over her chest and nodded at the boxes. "We're just trying to sort her things."

"Was your baby that killed her." Mrs. Bartlett sneered at John, "Heard you stuck your cock in her until it took and then left her to bear the shame alone."

John's jaw twitched but he kept still. "I took legal responsibility for her son, it's true, but the boy wasn't mine before then."

"Wasn't it?" Mrs. Bartlett snorted, "Think what you like. It's you what's killed her, make no mistake about that."

"I think," Anna stepped between John and Mrs. Bartlett. "That you'd best leave unless you want to help us arrange any of this."

Mrs. Bartlett looked over the mess and shook her head. "I've nothing to gain from her. When she died she took everything we had with her."

Anna put her hand on John's arm as the woman left. "You do know that what she said is a lie."

"I know." John sighed, sitting on the sagging sofa. "It's… It's more that a decision I made in the heat of the moment came to this."

"Or the heat of many moments?" Anna prodded and then bit her lip. "Sorry, that wasn't kind."

John waved her down, "It is what it is. And you're right, there was still a chance, slim as it was, that the child was mine. That was on me. On me because I took a woman I didn't love to bed, had marital relations with her outside the bonds of marriage, and then left her."

"I was under the impression you rather left one another." Anna took the seat next to him. "But it does solve one of our dilemmas."

"How'd you mean?"

Anna shrugged, "With Vera passed and Aiden officially with us, that means we could move to Ireland and you wouldn't have to worry about Vera coming after you or the welfare of her child. We're raising him and we'll leave all these rumors and accusations far behind us."

John took Anna's hand and nodded. "We should speak to my mother about it."

"Good." Anna kissed his cheek. "But first, this flat."


	18. Till the Sun Is in the Sky

"No." Mrs. Bates shook her head, stacking books. "I know what I said so you can close your mouth with whatever response you prepared to give me, John Bates, but I'm not leaving my store just so we can move to Ireland."

"You want to be buried there."

"Just because I chose the Emerald Isle as my fields of final rest doesn't mean I want to live in those fields until I'm finally resting." She stamped a book hard enough to crease the page. "That's the end of it."

John turned to Anna for help but she ducked her head and kept to her illustrations at her drawing table in the back office. "You're no help."

"What could I say that she's not already argued against?" Anna motioned with her pencil. "She's a good debater."

"You could own that it was your idea to begin with."

Mrs. Bates glowered at Anna, "Excuse me?"

"Now-" Anna held up a hand and then gaped as John eased back toward the shop. "You're leaving me now?"

"I heard the bell to the door."

"Liar." Anna called after him but John worked his way into the shop all the same to reach the door.

John opened it and frowned at the constable standing there. "Sergeant Willis, this is an unexpected surprise."

"And I wouldn't drop by if it wasn't pressing business, Mr. Bates, but I'm here about a matter of some urgency."

"Please," John stepped out of the way to allow the Sergeant inside the shop. "How can I help you, Sergeant?"

"John I-" Anna emerged from the back room, stopping when she caught sight of Sergeant Willis. "Constable."

"Mrs. Bates." He tapped his crooked fingers to his forehead as his hat tucked under the crook of his arm. "I do hope you're well ma'am."

"Well enough." Anna put her hands together, her fingers interlacing. "We've got a new baby so it's a bit exhausting but we manage between the two of us."

"I had heard the news and wanted to offer my congratulations." He paused, "And my condolences as to the loss of Ms. Doyle."

"It was rather sudden." John shuffled, "But we're grateful for your attendance at her funeral. Not many were there but those who were-"

"I received your note." Sergeant Willis cut in and then cleared his throat. "I'm here on the matter of Mr. Green."

"I assume he's still in police custody." John folded his arms over his chest, leaning to his left to stop himself putting too much weight on his right leg. "Last I heard the Bailiff wanted to seek full charges against him."

"He did but there's a problem to that." Sergeant Willis coughed. "He's escaped our custody. We've no idea where he is."

"Excuse me?" John's arms dropped to his sides. "He's out?"

"To be fair, Mr. Bates, he was never under serious observation to begin with. While his attack on you last February was savage, your attack on him-"

"John's already paid the fine for that." Anna interrupted. "Alex Green was being kept because he was known to be dangerous, antagonistic towards our family, and threatening to me in particular. It was for our safety."

"And it's the unfortunate reality that we don't have the staff or the resources to keep a twenty-four-hour guard on him." Sergeant Willis sighed, "From our investigation into his escape we gather that he'd already made his way to the mainland since he was on the ferry."

"You know that for sure?" John pressed and Sergeant Willis nodded.

"He was spotted on the boat before it left and we've got a credible witness to him leaving the island." He met their gazes, trying to reassure them. "He's not coming back here."

"Who saw him?" John chewed the inside of his cheek and repeated the question when Sergeant Willis's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who's the credible witness that you have?"

"Mrs. Angela Bartlett. She's a reliable woman with a steady job at the post office and we know-"

John groaned and covered his face with his hand before dragging it to his chin. "You are aware, I assume, Sergeant that Mrs. Bartlett hates me yes?"

"I've heard there's a bit of bad blood betwixt you given the events that occurred between you and Ms. Vera Doyle beginning in November of last year and continuing until just before the altercation between yourself and Mr. Green in February."

"That's right."

"But we've got no proof that she'd lie to us about that." Sergeant Willis shook his head, "Your… personal feud or frustrations with Mr. Green had nothing to do with Ms. Doyle and therefore nothing to do with Mrs. Bartlett."

He puffed out his chest, "She'd not interrupt a police investigation with something as trivial as misguided angst towards you."

Anna rolled her eyes, "Are you married, Sergeant Willis?"

"No ma'am."

"And you didn't have sisters growing up."

"I had an older brother."

"Then you don't understand how petty women can be." Anna flicked her eyes toward John. "As the saying goes, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'."

"This is a police investigation, not a local spat or a personal vendetta Mrs. Bates."

"Things like this, Sergeant Willis, are always personal." Anna checked her watch. "I've got to get back to my work. My deadline's in an hour."

"Is there anything else, Sergeant?" John faced him and Sergeant Willis shook his head, taking his hat to place back over his brow.

"Nothing Mr. Bates. I just wanted to warn you as to the progress of the investigation and let you take that as you will."

"And we're… grateful, for the help." John sighed and guided the other man back to the door. "I wish you luck."

"We don't need luck, Mr. Bates."

"We all need luck, Sergeant Willis."

Sergeant Willis opened his mouth as if to respond and then jerked his head into a swift nod. "Good day Mr. Bates."

"Good day." John shut the door and rested his forehead on it a moment before going back into the office.

His mother still counted her totals and tallied the results before making a list by hand. Anna sat on her stool, moving herself back and forth with her toe while her pencil tapped on her fingers. She met John's eyes as he came in and the pushed herself away from her drawing table.

"I need to check on Aiden."

"I'll go if you've-"

"I already set off my sketches." Anna waved him off, slipping past him. "I just wanted to get away from Sergeant Willis."

"Anna-"

"Let her go John." He turned to look at his mother, taking Anna's abandoned seat. "She needs to work her mind through it a moment. Once she's a little more… handled she'll let you in."

"Isn't it my job to see what I can do?"

"Only if it's going to help." She made another calculation and set the paper aside to start another. "For the moment she's got to decide how she feels."

"Do you know how she feels?"

"I know she's nervous and scared." Mrs. Bates adjusted the glasses on the end of her nose. "That man troubled her from the moment Grün was gone. And he's been nothing but a thorn in our collective sides since you came."

"I do hope this isn't you trying to say this is all my fault."

"Of course not." Her lips quirked toward a smile. "Not that you helped it any but I can't, in good conscience, say you did anything."

"I'm glad you can't say it in 'good' conscience."

"John," She put down her pencil and removed her glasses. "A man like that needs only a moment for ignition. You incite, with something you consider small and insignificant, and he'll latch onto it until his teeth are so far into your flesh you're willing to cut off your own arm to get away from him."

"That's a very vivid picture."

"It's what he is, John." Mrs. Bates tapped her folded glasses against her finger. "He's a rabid animal. You stripped him of his power to tease and taunt and torment and he wanted revenge on you. This is the result."

"That sounds like this is my fault."

"If not you then it would've been someone else." Mrs. Bates unfolded her glasses and put them back on her nose. "That troubles Anna because, like you, she'd like to believe she's the only one with flaws in the world."

"She's without flaw."

Mrs. Bates laughed, "And I hope you're smart enough to think that until you die because that, my boy, is the key to a happy marriage."

John pushed himself off the stool and went to the stairs. He took them to the third floor and pushed the door open. Anna sat in the sitting room, rocking in the chair with Aiden tucked close to her, and held a bottle in her other hand. Moving across the space, John took a seat on the sofa next to her and rested his hand on hers. She smiled for a moment before closing her eyes and resting her head back against the wood of the chair.

"If your mother doesn't want to go to Ireland-"

"I know that's not what's bothering you." John went to ease the bottle from her hand but Aiden whimpered and she laughed, tucking the nib back between his lips. "My mother said I was always hungry as a baby too."

"Another way he's your child." Anna smiled at him, keeping the bottle at the right angle. "Katie-Anne's besotted with him."

"I caught her reading aloud to him last night after she was supposed to be asleep." John scooted closer to Anna. "She'd snuck from her room to read him her favorite book."

"I'm not surprised." Anna kissed the top of Aiden's head as his lips slackened and his eyes fluttered shut again. "She's willful."

"She's a bit like you." John eased the bottle away and opened his hands. "Here, let me burp him."

They traded Aiden and John settled the baby on his shoulder to gently pat his back. After a minute John spoke again, "Even if my mother doesn't want to move to Ireland, we can still go."

Anna narrowed her eyes at John, "Now who's not talking about what's really bothering them?

"You brought it up and I thought it'd be best to address the concerns we could." John shrugged, chuckling when Aiden burped. "There we go. Get all the bubbles out so you're not crying later with a stomachache."

"He'll probably cry anyway." Anna rested her elbow on the arm of the rocking chair and leaned her head tonto her hand. "But what'd you have in mind as far as Ireland's concerned?"

"I want it to remain free of British rule." Anna glared at him and John smiled, shaking his head. "I was hoping you'd laugh."

"Not right now."

"Alright then, being serious," John switched Aiden to his other shoulder and continued patting until he burped again. "I've been talking to my cousins. They know a bookshop owner who's thinking about selling. His sons all moved to America and he's going to live with them in Boston. He wants to give the place over, as is, but if he can't find anyone then he'll sell his stock and the store gets used for something else."

"Is it in a good spot?"

"It's in a village near Dublin but not in Dublin so we'd avoid a lot of the tensions there, which would be nice, but we'd be close enough to enjoy it." John rested back against the sofa. "And it's a bookshop, you'd be about the same distance from London, and my cousins all rave about the local schools there."

"They do?"

John nodded, "All taught by Catholic nuns and demand uniforms."

Anna snorted, "Katie-Anne won't be too chuffed about the uniforms but she might not mind the nuns

"They'll be hard taskmasters but she'll get a good education." John adjusted Aiden from his back, "And I think you're ready for another nap."

"I am too." Anna rocked in the chair, "I forgot how exhausting it is."

"Having a baby?"

"Being a mother." Anna let her fingers trail over his where he held Aiden to his chest. "But this time I've got you so it's much easier."

"I'm glad I could be around for this." John stood, managing Aiden in his arms. "I'll put him down and then I can put you down."

"A nap sounds lovely." Anna closed her eyes, still rocking in the chair. "Just remember, someone's got to go and get Katie-Anne from the Crawley's. She's been playing there all morning and I don't want her wearing out poor George or Mary."

"I'm sure both are fine."

"All the same."

"Alright." John kissed Anna's forehead, "One thing at a time."

He took Aiden to his room, laying him down as the little boy whimpered a moment. But he settled when John put his hand on the boy's chest and breathed deeply. John watched him for a moment and bent to place a gentle kiss on Aiden's forehead. A little squirm and a flail of a leg before the boy stilled and the lines left his face so only the peace of sleep remained there.

John returned to the sitting room to see Anna already asleep in the rocking chair. He tried not to laugh out loud as he collected a blanket and draped it over her sleeping body. She barely shifted and John wondered a moment at the similarities between she and Aiden when they slept before he left the room.

Mrs. Bates looked up when John collected the keys to the truck. "I do hope that means you're going out on a delivery run."

"I've got to get Katie-Anne from the Crawleys and thought I'd best kill two birds with one stone." John gathered a few of the crates. "Anna's asleep upstairs and so is Aiden."

"Good. Poor thing's worn out."

"Aiden or Anna?"

Mrs. Bates looked up at him from beneath her forehead. "At this point does it matter which one? They're both equally exhausted."

"You know…" John wiggled the keys in his hand. "I was actually a little surprised by your lack of fuss when we brought Aiden home."

"Because you thought I'd make one or because you thought I might actually attempt to change your mind?"

John shrugged, the crate shifting a bit in his hands. "Either."

"John," Mrs. Bates removed her glasses. "You didn't pay me any mind when I advised against you courting Anna. You didn't pay me any mind when you courted Vera. You didn't even ask me when you offered to legally align yourself as Katie-Anne's father before you married her mother. Tell me when I ever had a chance of changing your mind about something."

"But with Aiden-"

"You committed to his mother that you'd take ownership because you wanted to be responsible for your actions. Regardless of who the actual father was, you realized that there was a chance and that was honorable of you." Mrs. Bates played with her glasses a moment. "The fact that your child is brown… Complicates things but it's not the worst possible outcome."

John frowned, "What would've been the worst outcome?"

"It could've had horns and hooves." She put her glasses back on, "Having a brown grandson is better than knowing you're raising the antichrist or a demon."

John snorted and left the shop.

His drive dropped the books along the way until he pulled up to the back of the Crawley house. John climbed out of the cab and cringed when he heard yelling from inside the house. Mary, standing on the back porch, watched as Katie-Anne and a blonde boy ran around the garden. She barely turned when John joined her and jerked her head toward the house.

"I'm sure we've got you to thank for that."

"For what?"

"The row going on between my father and his favorite daughter." Mary waved down whatever else John would have attempted to say. "I'm not overly gutted that I'm not his favorite. I knew it the moment I argued with him for the first time. Sybil's always been the best of us and now she's gone and actually done something he can't stand."

"She always struck me as a bit of a rebel."

"Because she's a nurse, has an occupation that earns her money, and occasionally wears trousers?" Mary snorted, "Compared to my father's arguments and red faces on those occasions, this is equivalent to whatever that bomb blast the Americans allowed to wreak havoc over Japan."

"What happened?"

"She told my father, _told_ him that she's marrying Branson." Mary sighed, "I guess we all should've seen it coming but I thought his mooning over her wasn't going to come to anything. It was infatuation, nothing more."

"I guess it was more."

"I don't begrudge them anything but I do wish they'd waited until after Castle Cornet was officially in the hands of the Guerns. It'd take a bit off the load on my father's shoulders and perhaps ease his blood pressure."

"And you blame me for all this?"

"If I remember correctly, and I've an astounding memory," Mary finally faced John, "You were the one encouraging Branson to pursue Sybil."

"They're well matched."

"I never said they weren't. But Branson's a socialist, a borderline Marxist, and very likely involved with the IRA in one way or another. My father's a monarchist, highly conservative, and will wear the proud colors of his nation's uniform until the day he dies." She shook her head, "Not a great combination at the dinner table."

"Sybil'll temper Branson. Maybe not take away his beliefs but she'll help him know when and how to express them." John shrugged, "It's what marriage does."

"Not sure you or Anna needed any tempering in your marriage." Mary sighed and called out, "George, Katie-Anne, time to come inside."

Both blonde children stopped and then pelted toward the porch. Katie-Anne ran right into John's open arms and squealed when he lifted her into the air. He put her down quickly, making a show of huffing and puffing.

"Soon you'll be too big for that."

"Never." She insisted, "I'll be a fairy forever."

"Alright." John took her hand and waved to Mary. "Thank you."

"Katie-Anne's always welcome here." Mary took George's hand. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to your friend George?"

He waved, "Bye."

"Bye George." Katie-Anne waved over her shoulder as she trotted beside John. "He's fun. Very fast but he doesn't like books."

"Not everyone does."

"But books are so much fun." Katie-Anne pouted a moment, "I hope Aiden likes books. I've been reading to him."

"Past your bedtime?"

Katie-Anne bit her lip. "No."

"Are you telling me a falsehood Katie-Anne?" John stopped and waited for Katie-Anne to nod. "Should we tell lies?"

"No."

"That's right." John took a breath, "Have you been reading to him after your bedtime?"

"Yes."

John lifted Katie-Anne into the cab and held her hands. "You and Aiden need your sleep. It's what'll help you grow."

"But I want to read to him."

"Then let me tell you what," John kissed both of her hands. "I'll let you read him your bedtime stories before you both go to bed. Is that sufficient?"

"Yes." Katie-Anne bobbed her head so fast her curls bounced.

"Good." John kissed her forehead, "Seatbelt please."

They drove back to the bookshop and John led Katie-Anne inside. She immediately found her favorite corner, tucked away as Mrs. Bates made a sale, and John proceeded up the stairs to their flat. He opened the door carefully and smiled at the silence inside.

Slipping off his shoes, he padded over the floor to where Anna still lay asleep on the rocking chair. He laid his lips gently on hers and she sighed into his mouth. John watched as her eyes fluttered open and her lips curled into a smile.

"Am I Sleeping Beauty now?"

"You're my Sleeping Beauty." John kissed her again. "I thought you wouldn't want to sleep through supper."

"Are you making it?"

"I can't." John jerked his thumb behind him. "My mother'll need me in the shop for the rest of the afternoon but Katie-Anne's here, safe and sound."

"And Aiden?"

"I was just about to check on him." John shrugged, "I'll give him a change and a feed, taking some of his things, and keep him strapped to me while I work."

"You'll knock his head against a bookshelf."

"I will not." John chuckled with her, kissing her cheek. "I'll be careful. Besides, it'll give you a bit of peace while you cook."

"You, Mr. Bates, are a complete miracle." Anna cupped his face between her hands, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I ask myself that same question about you every day." John pushed off the chair. "I'll go get Aiden."

True to his word, Aiden stayed bump free and seemed to enjoy his surroundings as he stayed swaddled close to John. The wrappings over John's shoulders and chest aroused fascination from more than a few clients and John explained the intricacies of the Dutch device. Mostly it keep Aiden gurgling and cooing close to him until he wiggled so much John had to extract him.

"Do you need something?"

"Probably a feed, a change, or another nap." His mother came from the back, handing John the keys. "All the receipts for the day are done, I've got tomorrow's orders ready, and I'll take Katie-Anne up if you'll finish locking up here."

"Yes ma'am." John situated Aiden close to his chest and managed the other tasks one-handed.

Even putting Aiden down before dinner and then allowing Katie-Anne to read him her bedtime stories went off without a hitch. He tucked Katie-Anne into her covers and came out of her room to see Anna clearing the table from dinner. "That doesn't seem fair."

"Why not?" Anna put one of the pots in the sink, taking a rag to the table.

"You cooked."

"And you've been managing two children, one of whom I know is excitable and the other who sleeps for two hours at a stretch." Anna paused in her wiping. "I am impressed that you didn't injure him."

"Oh ye of little faith." John put a hand to his chest, feigning injury. "He happened to love being with all those books."

"Or just being with you." Anna left the rag in the sink. "He adores you."

"I'm not sure he understands exactly what that means but he likes the attention." John sat at one of the chairs. "But I think you're someone in need of a bit of attention."

Anna stopped at the sink, turning to face John. "Are you making an indecent proposal, Mr. Bates?"

"I'm making a very obvious suggestion." John shrugged his shoulders, trying to keep his face calm. "Given the hectic nature of late I think you've felt a little forgotten."

"I think I've felt a little less than adored." Anna sauntered toward him, "But not for your lack of trying, which I greatly appreciate."

"I think we should get a better lock on our door."

"Maybe when Aiden sleeps through the whole night." Anna dipped down to kiss him. "Until then we'll have to satisfy ourselves with whatever we can manage in the small hours."

"What if," John stood, pivoting around to crowd Anna into the table, "We didn't have to wait for the small hours?"

"Your mother is still downstairs."

"And unlike before, we're married now so whatever noises she hears she'll have to pretend she doesn't notice." John let his hands run up and down Anna's arms, his fingers trilling over the fabric of her clothing. "You need someone to see to your needs."

"I believe you do that as often as you can." Anna let her arms loop around John's shoulders. "Twice this morning, if memory serves."

"Yes," John glided his hands down her sides, squeezed her ass for a moment to have her jump and then sought the edge of her skirt to pull it up. "But we're trying to expand our family and I think that takes a bit more than just my mouth sucking at you or my fingers working through your skin."

His fingers teased through her knickers and slid them down over her stockings to drop to the floor. "No matter how enjoyable those things are."

"Are you saying they should be more?" Anna tipped her head back as John set a line of kisses down the column of her throat.

"I'm saying we'll have to do more if we want more." He paused, "Unless you think it'll be too soon."

Anna let her thumbs graze along the sides of his neck as she held him there. "No. It's perfect. And since it'll take time, it never hurts to try."

"The joy is in the attempt?"

"Isn't it just?" Anna giggled into John's lips and then giggled harder when John set her firmly on the table. "This might not-"

"It's sturdy." John spread her legs around his hips, rubbing against her as his hands rucked her skirt to her waist. "It'll hold."

"I'm worried about it knocking into the wall."

John nipped along her jaw. "It'll be a steady lullaby for the children."

"Incorrigible."

"Minx." John managed his buttons while Anna managed hers and soon his hands were over her breasts. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to not wear this thing and just-"

"Unprofessional and breezy." Anna undid his belt and ran her hand over him through his pants. "What if I asked you not to wear these under your trousers? How would that feel?"

"A little less binding but then I'd not have another layer between me and the evidence of my obvious desire for you." John growled at her ear, biting briefly at her earlobe. "I've suffered from want of you lately. It's been unbearable."

"You're not the only one." Anna's nails dug into his shoulders when John's fingers entered her. "As you can tell."

"Yes." John's other hand grabbed the back of a chair and dragged it around as he positioned Anna's legs over his shoulders. He sat down and pulled himself to the edge of the table and brought Anna over the surface toward him. "I can tell."

His mouth closed over her and he sucked deeply, his tongue swirling around every crevice of her center, while his hands continued at her breasts. Anna laid back on the table, her heels digging into John's back while her hands latched onto the sides of the table to hold herself steady. Her motions and sounds and the bruises she added to his back with her feet only guided him to tongue her deeper, to suck longer, and add the work of his dedicated fingers to help her higher.

She came with a hand over her mouth, both of them conscious of the two sleeping bodies just down the hall. But John kissed over her quivering folds and stood, barely catching the chair before it hit the floor. It gave him the moment he needed to shed the remainder of his clothes and line himself up with Anna's entrance.

Her glazed eyes met his and she keened. "Yes, please."

With a thrust John was in. Anna's nails scratched at his arms and found purchase by clinging to him with the same strangling energy as her fluttering walls. John had to grab the table where she had recently clutched to keep himself from coming right there. The aching pleasure of being together came to him and once he reined in desire he moved. Slow, steady motions that reignited Anna's flickering pleasure until she writhed around him and arched her back off the table.

Her second finish was too much for John and he pistoned his hips into her. Their position had his hips hitting the wood of the table hard and he grunted against the pain and brought Anna closer. Wrapping her legs around him, Anna dragged John's mouth to hers while they wrestled her brassiere from her. With John's lips working themselves over her breasts and his thrusts reaching the end of her, Anna came again, bringing John over the edge with her.

He sighed, his forehead resting in the valley between her breasts, and tried to calm the race of his heart. When he raised his head, Anna stared at him with a smile. "You're right, we waited far too long for that."

John leaned over to kiss her, drawing out slowly so as not to cause too much reaction to their overly sensitive selves. He sat back on the chair and Anna remained lying on the table. She laughed and John took her hand, kissing over her knuckles.

"What?"

"I'll need to clean the table again."

"I'll do it." John went to stand but Anna's hand landed on his shoulder.

"No, I'll do it."

She slid off, removing the rest of her clothes, and went to the sink. John gathered the collection of fabric, draping it over another chair, and then scooted back as Anna came back to the table. He watched as she reached across the surface to carefully scrub at the wood until it shone. And when she slipped in front of him, bending to thrust her ass in his direction, John could not help himself.

He stood behind her, crowding her to the table again but this time with her hips knocking against it and his fresh arousal riding the crease of her ass. "I think you did that on purpose, Mrs. Bates."

He kissed at her neck, working back toward her shoulders. Anna shivered and sighed, letting her head loll back slightly. "Do you?"

"Why else would you wipe the table if you didn't want to drape your gorgeously naked body all over the table?"

"Maybe I wanted to scrub it so I knew it was clean?" She tried to defend but then hissed as his fingers ran along her seam.

"Does scrubbing the table always get you this wet?"

"Just you." She whispered and turned her head to see his face. "Are you ready again so soon?"

"You said it'd been too long." John's hands found her breasts again, cupping and massaging them as he ran himself between her legs. "I think my body agrees."

"Mine too." Anna spread her legs, putting her hands on the table to hold herself as John thrust forward. "It's been far too long."

"We've not had the flexibility to do what I'd like." John held her hips with one hand, the other still working at her breasts. "To have me take you over every available surface until neither of us can move."

"If you want more children then that'll never happen." Anna tried to laugh but the breath caught in her throat as John left her, holding to the edge. "We've not got time for slow now."

"Already tempting fate, is that it?" John licked toward her ear and then kissed back down the line. "We've taken too long already?"

"That's right."

"Then I'll go faster." John thrust back in, knocking Anna's ass into the cradle of his hips with the piston of his hips. "Better?"

"Harder." Anna's knuckles whitened on the table as John followed her instructions. "Deeper, John. It's got to be deeper."

He adjusted them slightly, bending Anna farther over the table, and obeyed her demands. The slap of skin against skin, the sweaty slide of their bodies meet, and the sucking wet sounds of their rutting actions raised the volume of blood in his ears. All John could comprehend were the sounds escaping Anna's throat, the tight cling of her body on his, and the bit of her nails into his thigh with each drive.

All at once her vaginal walls fluttered and then squeezed like a scorching wet glove around him. Anna's body shuddered and broke around him, her forearms catching her on the table as John let himself go. The frantic moans from Anna at the dovetail of her pleasure allowed John to pound into her until he finally finished.

His shaking legs barely managed to get him back onto the chair and he pulled Anna with him. They adjusted slightly, the stick of their skin of no consequence as they kissed one another lazily. John sighed into her lips and smiled.

"I think that helped."

"I think it did too." Anna maneuvered to her feet. "I'm going to rinse off and go to bed because they'll be up before we want them to be."

"I'll join you." John went to stand but Anna put a hand to his chest. "What?"

"Please wipe down the table again and that chair." She took their clothes from the other one. "I'd hate to leave it dirty in here."

John could not stop the grin on his face as she left the kitchen. He followed her instructions, scrubbing until the surfaces shined, and joined her in bed when he had scrubbed himself just as well. His arms wrapped around her and he was almost asleep when he smelled something.

At first John tried to shake it off but the persistent irritation to his nose had him sitting up. Anna muttered in her sleep but John moved out of bed and put his dressing gown on over his pajamas. He padded into the corridor, trying to trace the odd scent, and then caught a glow from the front window. John looked out and jumped back.

He raced to the bedroom and dragged Anna from the bed. "John? What-"

"Fire, in the bookshop." He handed over her dressing gown and hurried to get her feet in shoes. "Get Aiden and a bag for his things. I'll get Katie-Anne."

Anna was wide awake in a moment, rushing about with the efficiency of a mother, and hurrying into Aiden's room. John darted down the hall and bundled Katie-Anne out of bed and into a blanket. She muttered and grumbled, striking John for exactly one second with all the similarities she bore with her mother, but clutched onto John as he wrapped her around him. He met anna in the hall and they hurried out of the flat and down the stairs.

"I'll get my mother." John motioned for Anna to take the back stairs. "Get outside and get to a phone."

Anna nodded and clutched Aiden tightly to her chest in the same wrap John had utilized earlier that day as she stampeded down the stairs. John unlocked his mother's door and hurried into the flat. "Mother?"

"I smelled it already." She shuffled from her kitchen, replacing the receiver on her phone. "The fire department's already on their way."

John took her hand, the other keeping a secure hold on Katie-Anne, and they retraced Anna's path down the back stairs. Anna huddled inside the cab of the delivery truck and opened the door to take Katie-Anne and Mrs. Bates in with her. But when she motioned for John to join them he shook his head.

"I've got to try and put it out."

Anna almost said something but stopped herself, nodding. "We'll go to Mary's. It'll be safer there."

"I'll come as soon as I can." John waved them off as his mother took Aiden and Anna took the wheel of the truck. The second the engine rumbled to life, John went back up the stairs.

He managed to get into the rear office and blocked the door as best he could, smoke already pouring from under the door. Wrapping one of the tarps he used to cover cases in the back of the truck around himself, John went to the front of the shop. Flames rose high, licking at the inventory of books, and John saw the cracked glass of the front window.

But, as he looked closer, he also noticed a figure inside. John wrapped the tarp over his hand and yanked the door to the shop open before darting inside. The flames roared and he could barely ear anything much less see. He knew the path by heart and skirted around the growing infernos toward where he saw the figure. Or thought he saw the figure.

Something hit him along the shoulders and John stumbled. Wrapped as he was in the tarp, his hands could not break his fall and he fell sideways into a stack of books. They tumbled into a burning pile and sent the flames higher. John scrambled to his feet and ducked another blow.

In the smoke and flames he saw Green, wielding a large crowbar. John dodged another swing and sidestepped around a bookcase. As he did so, he bumped it and the already weakened joints groaned. It tipped and as John went to stop it from falling he could hear Green's cry.

John tried to dig into the pile but hands yanked him back as spurts of water flowed past him. Buckets of water and sand hit him from the outside as the brigade tried to put out the flames before they took over the whole building and those next to it. And when he finally gained his feet, John noticed the scratch in his lungs.

Someone offered him water before he could even attempt to make out the voices speaking to him. He blinked at them, coughing and wheezing, and watching the flames go down under the onslaught of water and sand. And when they sank far enough, the firefighters entered the building.

The first thing they brought out was news that the fire was out and it had not reached the upper floors. The second bit of news was that the back office was safe and not all the books were ashes. The third thing they brought out was the body of Alex Green. John watched at the man, his hand still clutched around the crowbar, took his place on a stretcher so like the one Vera had occupied.

In a moment John saw Green as nothing more piteous than the rabid animal his mother suggested. He saw the book shop, now a smoking pile of soggy books and half-burned inventory, as his destroyed livelihood. And he saw the good fortune of his family not being in the building when it all happened.

"Mr. Bates?" He finally turned to the fireman. "We've got it all out. There might be pockets, buried under the piles of books, so we're going to do another check and douse everything. But it was an accelerant so-"

"And Green?"

The man shook his head, "He inhaled too much smoke. The bookcase trapped him, crushed his leg, and he suffocated. Thankfully he wasn't burned too badly so he didn't suffer when he died."

"Thank you, Mr. Drewe." John stood, managing another swallow of water. "For all your help."

"Thank your mother. If she hadn't had the mind to call us when she did we couldn't have saved as much as we did."

John nodded, "She's a smart woman."

"That she is." Mr. Drewe nodded at him, "Goodnight Mr. Bates."

John stared up at the building, "Now what do we do with you?"


	19. As Your Bright and Tiny Spark

John piled another book with the others bearing burn marks and smudges. Another, swollen and waterlogged, fell into a different pile. He groaned and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage.

Someone knocked on the wall and John turned to smile at Branson. "Come to see the results for yourself?"

"If I believed Katie-Anne then you single-handedly put this thing out with just your spit." Branson laughed, "But it's a right state."

"It's not pretty." John picked up another book and allowed the ashy remains of the pages to flutter away before tossing it onto a pile. "I'm starting to get the very uncomfortable impression that I might be cursed."

"Because you managed to set your own house on fire, you ended up with the illegitimate child of the woman you formerly courted, you lost the full use of your right leg to the same man who burned this lovely place to the ground, and you did it all within a year of coming back from the war?"

John sighed, "Not sure I should've said anything requiring sympathy from you at this juncture."

"I'll admit, if I wasn't in such a good mood I wouldn't give you any." Branson clapped a hand to John's shoulder. "But I'm in a position to be generous."

"With your compliments or your jibes?" John reached for a broom and pushed at piles of ash so they formed mounds near the front door.

"With my money, actually." Branson shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, dancing out of the way of John's broom. "And with my affections since Sybil finally convinced her father that I won't turn any children we have into rebels."

"You agreed to that?"

"I may want Ireland to fully cast off the yoke of England but I'm not a fool. I know that the world's turning a bit differently now and we'll have to learn how to live with the way things are." Branson shrugged, "But we can't do that under 'His Lordship's' roof."

"So you need your own roof?"

Branson nodded and pointed to the roof above them. "From I heard, Mr. Drewe determined that there wasn't much damage to the upper floors."

"Except for the smell of smoke and some blackening to the floorboards they're all sound." John shrugged, "But my mother insists on staying with the Crawleys until I can get an engineer to determine it to her satisfaction.

"And what would be Mrs. Bates's satisfaction?"

John shook his head, "Her old shop and flat the way she remembers."

Branson cringed, "She's not blaming you, is she?"

"I wouldn't blame her if she did." John shoved another pile of ash across the floor. "Even if Green was a rabid animal just looking for a direction where he could point his fangs, I still incited the ire of a madman."

"Don't take this personally, John, but you're not one for attracting the best of company in general are you?"

John snorted, "I think I filled that quota when I met Anna and the universe wants to find balance by never allowing suck a fluke to occur again."

"I think the same about Sybil but…" Branson winced, "Then I remember that she has a father that believes I might just firebomb his house should I disagree with his political views."

"There are pros and cons to discovering who we love." John motioned to the burned out room around him. "This was a result I could trace back to meeting Anna and falling in love with her."

"I hope you're not trying to say whether or not it was a mistake to meet or marry her."

John raised his eyebrows. "I do hope I don't have to explain how ridiculous that particular postulation is."

"Back to the point I was trying to make," Branson sidestepped the tangent, "I'm in need of a place I can present as my own for when Sybil and I get married."

"And…" John paused, blinking at him for a second. "You want to give her this place as an option?"

"Given that there's no longer an interior to this building, I could turn it into something else." Branson opened his arms and turned in a circle. "Imagine the potential of this place."

"Imagine it how?"

"Well I've recently met a guy who was looking to help Mary with some of her investments. He and I got to talking about cars and he's interested in starting a business selling them."

"And he wants to sell them on Guernsey?"

"He wants to sell them in a few places but he's interested in the idea of choosing a few locations to start." Branson walked to the doorway and paced himself toward the back of the building. "We could do something with this space."

"If you want to bring him by to see if he even likes the spot then you should." John bent down for another book and flicked through the burned and waterlogged pages before chuckling. "I guess this is what happens when everything comes apart."

Branson walked back to where John held the broom. "Tell me, did you all lose everything when the shop burned?"

"No." John shook his head, "We've still got shipments coming in, the safe was in the office, and my mother insured it so the bank'll give us an amount once the money man comes for a review of it."

"So you'll have enough to start again?" John paused and Branson hurried to explain. "I might've overheard the conversation you had with Anna the other night."

"Remind me never to have a conversation where anyone can hear us."

"Then you'll spend a lot of time in fields."

John groaned, rubbing at his eyes. "Was there a point to your question just now or are you telling me how thin the walls are at the Crawley house?"

"Both but," Branson cleared his throat, "I did latch onto to the part of your conversation where you were saying you'd have a chance in Ireland."

"And you think we should go?"

"I'm Irish so of course I think you should go. However," Branson raised a warning finger, "I also believe that it's best for your whole family."

"Why's that?"

"Your shop burned, you're not exactly the most popular person, and-"

"Alright," John put up his hand. "That's enough."

"You asked."

"I know but-"

"Moving on." Branson clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "Given that you've got nothing left here, go to Ireland. Make your life there where no one knows any part of your story."

"We have been rather behind the eight ball since this all started." John caught sight of Branson's confusion and waved his hand. "It's an American phrase I picked up from a few of the men in my unit."

"I'll just assume you're talking about the rather spectacularly uphill climb you've endured since you came back from the war."

"It's funny," John tossed another book into one of the piles. "I thought that would be the hardest thing I ever did in my life."

"Then maybe a fresh start is what you all need." Branson leaned back on the doorframe. "A place where Katie-Anne's not the daughter of a Jerry, Anna's not a Jerry-bag, you're not the father of a black baby, and your shop didn't burn down because a nutter decided that he wanted to ruin your happiness."

"A few of those won't change just because our location has."

"But you don't have to explain any of it." Branson shrugged, "And you won't have to face the people with all their misconceptions ingrained from living in the same neighborhood as you."

"Probably best." John gathered the last book and added it to the pile. "What kind of offer would you make on this place?"

"Let me talk to Henry and we'll take a look together." Branson winked at John, "It'll be better for me to sell cars instead of just driving them."

"I'm sure." John watched him go before setting the broom against the wall and making his way up the stairs. They groaned but held as he found himself on the second floor. His hand pushed open the door and smiled at the sight of Anna packing the contents of his mother's flat. "Are you always so helpful?"

"You were rather busy discovering the extent of the damage downstairs and your mother's complaining about the risk that the floor of her flat might cave in." Anna folded a blanket overtop a number of vases in a crate. "I thought I'd ease her worries slightly."

"Come here." John held out his hand and pulled Anna onto the sofa with him. "Sit with me a moment?"

"You've got that look on your face," Anna held up a finger, "The one that says you're thinking deeply about something and you want to talk it out."

"Should I be worried that you're cataloguing my faces?"

"You should be more worried if I paid them no mind." Anna tucked her hands with John's. "What's on your mind?"

"Branson wants to buy the shop."

Anna blinked at him, "With what money?"

"He's got some kind of investor Mary's been talking to that might help fund a car shop that he'd run…" John shook his head, "It's a bit confusing but-"

"That man Mary's had at the house?" Anna frowned, "The one who practically brushes the ceiling with his head?"

"Maybe?" John shrugged, "Whoever it is, Branson thinks he's got the money and once he gets the man to take a tour of the place, he wants to put an offer on it."

"Given it's a husk, I don't think it's a bad idea." Anna sighed, looking around the sitting room. "And it could give us a new start."

"That's what he suggested."

"Tom Branson suggested that we need a new start?"

"Apparently the walls at the Crawley's house are exceedingly thin."

Anna's face reddened and she covered it with both of her hands. "I'll never live it down if I actually have to confront Mary about what she might've heard."

"Specifically I think we should discuss how Branson wants us to move to Ireland." John paused, rolling possible words around his mouth. "And I can't say he's wrong in his suggestion."

"He got the idea from us since he heard us talking about it." Anna leaned back on the sofa, "And I wonder if the solution is just to leave Guernsey."

"Everything holding us here is gone." John took Anna's hand with his, "And leaving would give us a new chance to start somewhere people aren't worried about who we were before."

"People will always be worried about that." Anna let her fingers run over John's hand. "But maybe in Ireland we won't have to worry about them already knowing everything before we begin."

"Or thinking that we're making a huge mistake even being in the same room with one another." John snorted, "Or knowing that we've had more than a few bumps along the way."

"I'm sure our brown son will attract a bit of attention."

"That's something we can handle." Anna kissed his fingers. "In Ireland we won't be the eligible veteran who chose the Jerry-bag divorcée with a daughter after sleeping with the most scandalous woman in town. We'd just be a family looking to start a new life."

"And with Green gone, Vera gone, and the shop gone it'll truly be a new start."

"A fresh one for all of us." Anna tucked herself closer to John. "And your mother gets her bookshop all the same. We'd take the money Branson gives us for this and buy the shop outside of Dublin with it."

"Taking from Peter to pay Paul?"

Anna laughed, kissing John's cheek. "Something like that."

"Katie-Anne'll love it."

"I know." Anna ran her tongue over her teeth before pausing, "You know, we're all alone here."

"We are." John let his fingers wander over Anna's arms until he found her waist. "And we don't have to worry about being guests in someone else's house."

"There's still a bit of the noise factor, if we're not careful."

"Then we'll be careful." John teased, nipping at Anna's lips before taking them fully as she sat astride him. "Besides, this is my favorite way."

"Me above you?" Anna teased, rolling and grinding herself over his arousal to drag both of them toward torturous pleasure.

"You in control, taking what you will." John sighed, almost allowing his eyes to flutter closed. "It's beautiful."

"Why exactly?"

"Because you're so uninhibited like this." John's hands sculpted down, working over Anna's legs to sneak under her skirt. "When I first met you, you were so guarded and consumed by what happened."

"We both were." Anna caressed her fingers over John's face, kissing him slowly when and where she chose. "But we freed one another."

"I'd do it all over again if it meant that I got to meet you." John held Anna still for a moment to stare into her eyes. "Even if it was for a moment, I'd do it again."

"Me too." She tipped forward to take his lips with hers. "Now, be quiet so I can thoroughly enjoy you."

John obeyed, losing himself in Anna's attentions. Attentions she kept slow, measured, and used to drive John to the edge of sanity. Her fingers and nails dragged over him, fondling and squeezing until he moaned before pulling back to kiss him or caress his chest. When John thought he might have a chance to take control, even making the mistake at one point of humming in satisfaction, she shifted out of his reach. A game she played until John almost clawed his way through the sofa.

Then she finally sank onto him.

Her weight settled on his chest as they finished and John let his fingers stroke over her back, drawing patterns in the way her blouse stuck to her back. Anna titled her head down to kiss at his chest before lifting to kiss under his chin. "I do miss having a room to ourselves for this."

"Perhaps we could find a place in Ireland that'll let my mother and Katie-Anne be above us and we'll be out of hearing range."

"What about when Aiden gets older? Or anyone else we decide to add to our family?" Anna sat up, still straddling John's legs, and put her hands on his shoulders. "It's not going to get easier."

"Then we'll just have to get more creative."

Anna grinned, "And what ideas do you have?"

"So many." John held at Anna's waist and turned them quickly to put Anna on her back on the sofa. "Are you sure you'll be ready for them all?"

Anna looped her arms around his neck, "I'm all ears."

"Oh," John kissed down her neck, slowly opening her blouse one button at a time to add kisses down her torso. "You'll just need your sense of touch. I doubt ears'll be a problem."

"Really? And why- John!"

He grinned and continued nipping at her breast while running his fingers under her skirt to bring her knickers down. "I guess you could use your ears."

"How?"

"To hear this." John's mouth closed over her folds and sucked deeply.

Anna writhed under him, her clothes and his piling on the floor as they tried to expose more of one another. Older marks and scratches helped Anna find her place on his skin again before making new ones with each motion of his tongue and hands against her. And when she could move no more, quivering and trembling under the force of her pleasure, John joined them.

And they continued until neither could move.

It took a bit more convincing to have Mrs. Bates sign over her property to Branson. The accusatory stare she offered both John and Anna suggested she was ready to fight their unity against her but she took the pen and left her name on the deed. When Branson handed over the money she took it before John or Anna could touch it.

"If I just sold my shop and livelihood, then I want to control the source of my new livelihood."

"You do realize it's going to be 'our' livelihood, yes?" John wagged his finger between he and his mother and then added Anna. "We're all doing this together."

"Anna's got her illustrations and her artwork." Mrs. Bates narrowed her eyes at John, "This argument is between you and I."

"What argument."

"The part where you want to move back to Ireland without my consent."

"Mother," John groaned and then jumped as Katie-Anne crawled into his lap. "It's a good choice for us. It's a fresh start."

"I'm not fresh any longer, John. There's no way for me to start." She folded her arms over her chest. "This isn't the beginning of a new adventure for me. This is the end of mine."

Katie-Anne held John's hand tightly. "I think going to live where we can hunt fairies is a good idea." She giggled, "They're going to try and hide from us but we'll find them together."

"Darling," Mrs. Bates leaned forward, holding Katie-Anne's cheek. "I'm too old for fairy hunting. I hunted them when I was your age. I cannot hunt them when I can't chase them."

"Then I'll chase them for you." Katie-Anne insisted but Mrs. Bates shook her head and pushed back from the table.

"Take the money, if you want to make a new home there, but I'm staying here. I'll rebuild what I can and live out the rest of my life here."

She left the room and John turned to Anna. With a nod, Anna took Katie-Anne from John's lap and allowed him to follow his mother from the room. He heard Katie-Anne's voice as he left asking if she said something wrong when she mentioned the fairies. John was around the corner before he could hear Anna's response.

He found his mother pacing the back porch of the Crawley's house and cleared his throat to get her attention. She only scowled at him and waved her hand. "Leave me be John."

"I can't when you're so distressed."

"Have I taught you nothing about women that you think it's wise for you to speak to me right now?"

John swallowed and stepped forward again. "The knowledge that my mother has more to say about why she doesn't want to go back to Ireland."

Mrs. Bates sighed and sat on the large woven seat, inviting John to join her. "I left Ireland, with your father, in a different age. We were different people, young and excited about the world. We wanted to leave the cage we thought Ireland was and…"

"And?" John prompted, taking the seat next to her. "What else is there to it?"

"I'll feel a fool telling you."

John took her hand, "I've done many fool things and you've forgiven me for all of them. I think it's time for you to finally tell me something about what could ever make you a fool."

"The day you realize your parents are human is the day you're finally grown up." Mrs. Bates sighed, "I can't go back to Ireland because to go back would be to admit I'd missed it. I missed it the moment I left, full of hope in a new world, and every day since I've been gone."

"Every day?"

Mrs. Bates nodded and tapped the spot above her heart with two fingers. "It's not always a deep sensation but Ireland's always sat in my heart."

"Then why not go back?"

"I felt it'd be like admitting defeat." John opened his arm for his mother to lay her head on his shoulder. "I'll be right back where I started."

"That's not always a bad thing." John kissed his mother's hair. "Sometimes we need to go back to realize how far we've been."

"You, John Bates, got wiser in marriage." Mrs. Bates shifted, "And I think you're right. We need to go to Ireland and make our new start."

"Then we'll make a new start." John stood and extended a hand to his mother. "Ready to start planning for our future?"

Over the next few days they worked over the phones to purchase the bookshop, to find a house for them, and finally to set the date for their departure. An action that meant they were always busy. But not so busy that John did not fulfill his promise to Anna.

Between a series of calls, occupying the phone line at the Crawley house, John snuck Anna into a closet. There he risked his knees to bring her to orgasm with his mouth until her legs could not hold up her weight any longer. Then he held those same legs open as he took her against the wall. Her teeth bit so hard through the fabric of his shirt he found bite marks there when they walked the estate after the children were asleep.

That was when Anna surprised John but pushing him against the garden shed and bringing him over with her mouth as she opened his trousers. John pulled splinters from his fingers later but only after he left grass stains over their clothing trying not to take Anna like an animal. But she only clutched him closer in his act of possession so they cried out into the night. Noises they denied when Mrs. Bates tried to confront them about their disheveled state when they came into the house.

When all of their things left on the ship, packed into crates that Katie-Anne individually kissed before they loaded into the hold, John offered Anna a picnic at the beach. One where he showed her a conveniently sheltered cove that left sand burns over Anna's back. A cove that echoed their sounds and reverberated them back to send them over the edge together.

On the way back to the Crawleys, convinced a walk would be better, Anna led John to a spot on the island. They stood on the cliff, Anna holding tightly to John's hand, and she finally spoke. "This is where it was."

"Where you almost died?"

Anna nodded and pointed to the rocks beneath them. "I was going to toss myself down there and leave it all behind."

John risked a look over the edge and whistled, "Daring."

"Foolish." Anna's hands moved instinctively over her abdomen. "I was carrying life and it deserved to live but I couldn't see that then."

"We all get blinded in our own pain." John held her hand with both of his. "We forget that we're not our pain. We're more than that."

"I didn't know that then." She pivoted to face him. "But I know it know. I knew it when your mother started reading me your letters and I've learned it more every day since then."

"I'm glad." John dragged them back a few steps. "To be safe."

"We're not going to be safe here John." He frowned and then laid back on the grass as Anna rose over him. "We're going to find hope here."

They moved slowly, darkness closing around them until John could barely see Anna, but recognized the sensation of her above him. He followed her through tactile cues until they came crying with the waves. Waves that represented their future instead of the end.

When they returned to the Crawley's house, long after dark, they snuck back into their room. A room where John stripped the clothes gently from Anna's body to lay kisses where they had been. A room where they tried to keep themselves as quiet as possible. A room where they came together and then lay curled into one another as sleep took them.

"We're making a new life." John whispered, "We'll make it for us and ours. None of this has to happen again and we don't ever have to remember any of it."

"We can't forget it. It's part of who we are." Anna murmured back. "All of this is a part of who we are. Of who we'll be together."

"Of who we are together." John ran his fingers over her cheek, "I love you Anna. However, whenever, whatever comes, that'll never change."

"I love you too." Anna sighed, "To our new life."


	20. Lights the Traveler in the Dark

John closed his eyes and tightened his fingers around the little hand wrapping over his. He blinked at his tears and smiled down at the little girl with brown curls standing there. His hands opened and lifted her up so she could hold onto his coat. Her head ducked under his chin and he kissed her forehead before turning to Anna.

"I think she's tired."

"They all are." Anna adjusted the child in her arms and motioned to the other three sniffing at her side. "Grief does that to you."

"We should go home." John held the little girl with one hand and extended his other to the little boy with dark hair standing by the older brown boy. "Come on Daniel, before you fall asleep on your feet."

"I'm not tired." He insisted, sniffing hard as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm just sad."

"I know." John lifted him and managed to get the boy to lay his head down. "I'm sad too."

"But you've not cried like us." The little girl in his arms tugged on his lapel. "You didn't cry like we did."

"I cried last night, and the night before that, and this morning." John helped them into the back of the car. "Just because I haven't cried when you all did doesn't mean I haven't cried."

"So you're sad too?" The girl insisted and John kissed her forehead again.

"Of course Eleanor." John took a deep breath, "I'm very sad. She was your Nana but she was my mother."

"He's going to be sad for a long time." Aiden climbed into the back with them, holding Daniel close. "But eventually it'll fade so it's not heavy anymore."

"I told him that." Katie-Anne joined them in the rear of the car as Anna held the sleeping toddler to her chest in the cab. "It's what you told me when we visited your Dad's grave with Nana years ago."

"I remember." John started the car, nodding to the boy asleep in Anna's arms. "Roger never even stirred."

"He's probably the best sleeper of them all." Anna peeked over the seat to see the four behind them. "Although I think Aiden'll out-sleep them all in a few years."

"If he's anything like me when I was getting older, he'll out-eat us all too." John shuddered, "I'm not ready for those grocer bills."

"Then it's a good thing he's earning his own pocket money." Anna snorted, "He can work to pay for his expanded diet."

"We'll see how long that lasts."

John drove them from the cemetery to their home and helped extract the sleeping children from the rear of the car. Aiden and Katie-Anne crawled from the back and stretched out. They stared at each other and shuffled a second before Aiden cleared his throat.

"We were going out, to join our friends for a bit if it's alright."

He cringed and John turned to Anna. She shrugged, "If they're home before their curfew then I'm not bothered."

"Nor me." John nodded at them, "Be home before your curfew and I don't want to see either of your sleeping through Mass tomorrow, understand?"

"Really?" Katie-Anne brightened, her hair bouncing. "You're letting us go?"

"It's been a difficult day for us all and I think you need to find a bit of fun in it." John waved them off, "Just remember the rules and don't make a nuisance of yourselves. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." They cried out and ran to the bikes chained behind the house. In seconds they were gone, peddling off into the village.

John sighed, holding two of their children to his chest. "We didn't make a mistake just now did we?"

"No." Anna opened the door and led them inside. "It'll give them a bit of fun."

Between the two of them they managed to get their children changed into their pajamas and tucked into bed. Together they got to their room and collapsed on the bed fully clothed. John held Anna's hand, pulling her close as tears pricked his eyes. "Should I have cried in front of them?"

"Only if you felt you wanted to." Anna shifted, pulling herself up to see him a little more clearly. "I don't think faking your emotions would've been good for them. Feigning your emotions wouldn't help anyone."

"I know." John blinked as the tears rolled down his temples. "I just… I miss her so much and I shouldn't because I have all of you so I shouldn't be so overwrought about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I've so much." John kissed Anna's hand, trying to stop his tears. "I've Katie-Anne, Aiden, Daniel, Eleanor, Roger, and you. What else could I need?"

"You needed her." Anna kissed John's cheek, pausing for a moment. "And we all need one another. But sometimes we need more than that."

"What's more than that?"

Anna dragged John's hand to her abdomen. "Maybe another girl?"

John sat up in a hurry, "Are you sure?"

"I know what it feels like now." Anna giggled, "This'll be my fifth."

"Six children…" John whistled, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I'm ready for something." Anna sat back and pulled her buttons apart slowly. "Something I think might help us deal with our grief."

"As you wish."

In the dark of the night, and into the small hours, they came together. And as they dozed together afterward two lines ran on a loop through John's mind. Two lines from a poem he read to his children over and over again.

He smiled into the darkness, holding Anna closer to him as his fingers caressed where their next child grew. " _Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star._ "He dipped his head down to kiss her abdomen. "Our little star."


End file.
